He was playing guitar in the park,
When I was going back to home.
Surrounded by some folk,
May be friends of him.
He sang in his sweet voice,
He didn't seem happy though.
As though he sang a mild song,
But he sounded a little low.
Next Morning when up for office
I still saw him singing in the park
But this time he was all alone,
Singing on a loud tone.
As if he has a lot to tell,
His pain was not to dispel.
I felt if I should go and ask him,
Was he there on his whim?
Or something is hidden within?
People who were passing by,
Smiled at the strange guy.
I didn't want to interrupt him,
So I too glanced and walked by.