Penny For Your Thoughts

 

As the sun dawned upon me, on a dewy green bench that morning 

I sat with pride and a pocketful of green notes at my beck and call, yawning. 

“I can buy this bench.” I started conversation with the stranger at the other end, 

“Not if you can read what is written on it” came his retort, politely sent. 

 

It woke me up for good that day, as my eyes fell on the red sign then 

That said; ‘en-oo-tee 4 ess-ae-ell-eee’ and that was all my mind addressed. 

Re-cognizing letters and numbers that were taught once upon a time, I said

 “Looks quite funny when teamed up in twos and fours, the alphabets.” 

 

“Yes indeed, that is how words are born” the stranger smiled, polite yet again.

 ‘I wouldn’t know’ I thought, swallowing the painful pain stuck at my throat.

 I felt heavier with my rich pockets sagging in on the regret that plead

 “Would you mind telling me what it means, the words…?” 

 

He blinked away the surprise that screamed in his eyes, loud enough 

To hurt my wounded pride and beat the green notes bagging down my pockets 

To death. “It means, you cannot buy this bench, not because you can’t,

 It is because you shouldn’t” his condescendence spoke in a rude tone, for once. 

 

‘Can’t and shouldn’t’; they taught me I was a poor man in rags that morning. 

The stranger who knew ‘words’ seemed plenty rich to buy me, while 

The illiterate fool that I am, tried buying a bench that shouldn’t be bought. 

 

For every shiny penny that filled my pockets, I traded in a word 

With that rich stranger on a green dewy bench; I started reading. 

Letters and numbers that were taught once upon a time made more sense, 

As my baggy pockets got empty until there was nothing left to read. 

 

An illiterate rich man met a poor teacher on a dewy green bench that day, 

When one taught the other the power of words that bred more pennies 

Than all that the trade could ever have earned. Today, I sincerely pray 

For all the illiterate rich men on Earth to meet a teacher, every dawn. 

 

If not, every child with a word to stand by and a pen for sword,

 A rich mind with a voice of their own is a mighty knight in war, 

Against all that breeds such unfortunate illiterate men on earth until 

The glorious dawn they meet a teacher, rich in words on another green bench. ‘