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The Web Poetry Corner

Kinjal Natekar


Dubai, UAE, UAE

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A Cold Night


Kinjal Natekar

As he walked along the narrow street ,
Nasty stones pricked his bare feet,
He headed straight for the doctor's house,
There was no time to stop and pause.
His teeth chattered as the cold wind blew,
And away with it his old hat flew,
He'd give his life for bread and stew,
He prayed an angel would come to his rescue.
Life for him was dim and dull,
Not a blissful day for him to recall,
He spent his days locked up in a jail,
A convict he was , released on bail.
As he walked alone in the misty night,
His feet trembled so much with fright,
He thought of death , he feared he'd meet,
The doc's house ,he saw, at the end of the street.
His hands so cold , he knocked on the door,
He knocked and knocked till his hands grew sore,
The doc at last stepped outside,
Agonised in pain , the convict cried.
Gasping for breadth , the convict said,
'Treat me or I'll get a frostbite',
The doc then gave a note which read,
'Sorry I'd treat you, If only you were a WHITE'.