HARMONICA

I bought a Harmonica

It is made out of steel and fibre,

A valuable thing for both a musician

And also for a junk-dealer;

In two different ways.

To a musician it is an instrument,

Which showers music.

To a junk-dealer it is nothing,

But a rusty iron piece.

I took the instrument with ease;

And kept it on my lips

And started to blow.

I tried hundred times

To make mellifluous music out of it.

But the same prosy notes repeated

Then I gazed it with despair

The steel reeds ridiculed me

What is wrong with my lips?

What is wrong with my sense of music?

I cursed the instrument severely,

And threw it away with anger.

At that time a breeze gently blew;

By touching the instrument

It resulted a nice music out of the instrument.

I astonished very much

Even a gentle breeze of Nature

Makes nice music!

But I can't!

At last I recognised my inability

Yes,I lack the Music of Nature.