Till yesterday
You were bowing at his feet
Yelling “yes” to all his propositions
You have never thought independently

You have filled his cup of wine
With the chips from your pocket
You have strained yourself
In locating his whereabout hide-outs

Now you act differently
Keeping a grouse in mind and soul
He never asked you to roam around
You made all the rounds ignoring all others advices
Or not at all heeding to their valuable suggestions

Now what happened my dear!
You think differently
Act agitating
Express aversion to his references

Writing poetry is not to be a pastime
Or a game to play according to your taste
It is a serene act to be observed in pious fashion
Be intelligent at least now with no invalid intentions!