The broken plate

When my long-lived plate broke yesterday,
it broke my right to live with it forever,
it broke my heart to enjoy its exotic beauty ever,
It broke my desire to fall in love with it ever, whenever I look at it,
It broke all my dreams to eat up whatever is varied, colourful, yet luring always,
it broke my heart of mending the smashed pieces of hope
broke the revival of life to reincarnation.......

I picked a rose bud for you ,
I found it on a rose bed ,
it is not dead .
But  if you water it ,
and give it room to grow ,
it will blosom into something you don’t know .
For its buds will one day open ,
perhaps when you are curled up in bed ,
and you will think of me when I have gone ,
and all the things I said .

We are not heroes.
We are just people,
trying to survive.
You and I,
are not equals.
You work from home
while I...
I work to ensure
that I get to keep mine.
They call us essential,
because we provide
all the food and the things
that help keep you alive.
But I am resentful
that I don't get to decide,
What is more worthy,
my labor or life?
So don't call me a hero.
I am simply doing
what has to be done.
Don't call me a hero,
unless you plan to treat
and pay me like one.