A Worn Out Note

NaPoWriMo Day#7: Write a poem about money

The rickshaw driver handled me a worn out note, frayed

At the edges. As lined as the palm of his hand. The

Dirty tape that held the collapsible material precariously together urged

That I should return it, But he, reading what I was about to do, turned

His watery eyes on me. They bore an uncanny resemblance to the

Dirty tape that held the collapsible material precariously together that

I reverently folded the note into my purse. The thinning paper gingerly

Sat amongst crisp, fat younger notes. The worn out rickshaw driver cycled

Away, and I felt he would tear apart, the tape being so precarious. .

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s