My First Poetry - A Cabby Life in Brief.

Image from www.taxiuncle.com

I'm not good at writing poetry.
My cab is in workshop. I've nothing to do. I write this for you.

I am a cabby.
I drive for money not for hobby.
To buy milk for my baby
And pay corporate P.A.P.

You probably look down on me,
Until you’re late for work and need me.
Then I’m your savior not a nobody.
Without me you might lose your position,
What’s the use of all your qualifications,
Without me, a cabby?.

All kinds of folks use me.
For work, for play and for a fee.
I’m your carrier,
while you’re in pursue of your career.
I take you high, I take you low,
I take you wherever you want to go,
to achieve your whatever goal.

My job is not glamorous, you might not want to do.
I don’t cheat the system like some P.A.P. supporters do.
Though I am but a cabby,
I’ve a name and dignity.
When I greet you “ Madame or Sir",
Please don’t return with a silent sneer.

I've seen joy, I've seen sadness.
To ROM in gladness, mortuary in sadness.
If you can’t pay, the fare is on me,
I felt pain when you run on me.
Wheelchair people, I like to pick,
Their smile for me is all I need.

I take people from place to place,
Oh my goodness, sometimes to wrong places.
You give the destination, I carry the burden,
We are together for only a moment.
After you depart, we’ll not meet again,
So, please forgive me, I won't do it to you again.