There was one boy, who had been a runaway,
He saw this land, that sea, even before he was 18,
Rusty and polished folks asked alike,
You got mother and father, still you been a runaway,
The boy give them a smile and moved to the new land and unknown sea,
One day his kafila reached the city next to his own,
The boy grew restless and sleepless, going into a hiding,
Wanted to meet mother, but cannot he was a runaway,
Master got to knew of his best worker belonged to the next city,
Called him up to ask what all he can trade,
The boy answered him to buy some mud pots,
That was not his master expected, to buy from so far land,
He asked the boy, what good it will be to him,
It will help, someone’s family to live through one more winter,
May be his next few sons will be able to stay,
Master not had money but kindness and wisdom par the best,
He knew what the boy had done for his family,
He gave the boy five shillings and task to stay back this winter in this city,
Bring him the finest pots baked in winter furnace, by next summer,
Few grew detractor of his lords’ benevolence,
Few more grew supporter of his foresightedness in saving the potter and his trade,
City developed into finest exporter of pots,
Master made profit unparallel to anyone in the medieval world,
Boy and his family lived happily ever after !!!!
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1 comments:
beautiful.......touchy..well written
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