The workers
Completing the
Open drain,
Mid-day May sun
Shining on their
Heads,
Sweat coursing down
Bodies taut,
Hot wind fanning
Glistening bodies black,
Swirling dust settling
In their humble bread;
O my Muse!
Let my poetry
Be soaked in
Their labour- sweat,
And broadcast
This real scent
Everywhere.
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