a pome

This was one of chain of mails. The circumstances are not important. but the poem i liked .( i am a firm believer in the belief that the best things in the world are those i created ) so here it is.


Do not worry, friend, for i am STILL alive,
but you should not push a bee out of his hive,
for it doesn't know what or whom it will sting,
to all of us, unfathomable sorrow it will bring.
the lure of the west has always been strong,
but to judge it, in rupees, will be terribly wrong,
for the money you state, is given for a song,
such petty cash, is worthless in the land of oil,
i might have to burst your bubble, o my dear bong,
in far lands, great hours you have to toil,
don't worry too much, rewards here shall come ere long,

Fly, my friends, if you wish it so,
but please don't chase the golden doe,
have a care when you jump to work with another (old) man,
it should not be into the fire, from the frying pan,
after all this, do not consider me your foe;
else i might have to consider the recourse of lying low.
i have decided though, that this shall be my source of dough,
so in this sinking ship, i shall stand at the bow.
but don't kill the spark, this thread of mails,
although its pace has reduced to that of snails

the HR here shall run chasing their tail,
for we are no less than a mighty hail.
but in case, do'st our resolution yet fail,
and the fire is put out with water in a pail,
it is in the barren lands, and the sign of the four,
shall we, in all our despair, our entire hope pour!!