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Feb 2014
Hand

A few playful beaking from him
And I remember
Did not soap the dirt off my hand!

Here I stand
Bothered
Praying

My parrot doesn’t get an infection.

Head*

Because it bothers
Low I stoop
To pen about bird ****!

On my way from office
Fell the hit-never-miss.

Finding no dried leaf
I used my handkerchief
And verified from a stranger
There wasn’t a stain!

Bird **** is a bane.

So they said
Is the chance my head
Would soon be bereft of hair

Quite unfair!

Here I stand
Bothered
Praying

The few remaining don’t leave me.
Pradip Chattopadhyay
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