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Someone left this glass of wine on the bench.
Can I drink it?
Who knows why it was left alone.
Maybe
Two lovers sat down and had a great time,
And walked off.
Or they might have argued and went their separate ways.
Peace or hostility;
It doesn’t matter.
The glass of wine
Is left alone anyway.
Now,
it’s for the ants,
The bugs
And the ravens who couldn’t taste blood.
Now,
it’s for all those who really deserve it.
Now,
It’s free
Truly.
Now,
Anyone can drink it.
But no one will.
Because what if
The people return?
What if they unite?
That’s bullshit.
The beggar drinks it before the raven can.
Abel Johnson Thundil is a poet from India. He has a blog called Amaranthine: A Blog of Original Poetry where he puts out two poems everyday. Abel is the author of The Bleeding Rose, a poetry anthology. His Patreon page is here.