Wednesday, 17 December 2014

Michael Jackson

I had a dream about Michael Jackson, 
He wasn't dead, but alive. 
He was staying at my place,
For a very, very long time. 

It was a bit weird,
Having him over,
Had some particular ways
Some pricey demands. 

Thought of him as picky,
As a fussy eater 
He was seen blowing up the waiter. 

Waiter, I don't even know where one came from!
Seemed to be a seedling of my brain,
Of my wild imagination. 

But just as he was leaving,
Going back home,

I heard a familiar voice screaming,

"You're going to be late!" said my mom!

- Ragini Zutshi Anand

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