Ashraf Gohar Goreja

A Loyal Spectator

With a heavy, meek and humble heart,
He kept sitting after the games were over,
Shouting, cheering, howling
Heckling crowd were gone
But this, loyal spectator was left alone

He continuously heard strident, blasting blares
In his silently ringing, deafen ears
Tooting cheers coming from near and far distance
Couldn't make his lonesome world, happy and cheerful
He didn't repeat blissful slogans for his eyes were tearful

Now, this delightful event was concluded
And his pensive world had turned around
To its congenial and depressive phase
Making him sad again on this crowed earth
What virtues he would have brought with his birth?

Empty cans, glass bottles and half burnt cigarettes
Left over food, drinks, unwrapped candies
With a thankful contented heart, he lived
On this planet of marvelous glories and great success
He was merely a beaten bishop, on grand board of chess.
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