a poem by Shah Pravinchandra Kasturchand

It is 8 o’clock, pm, night
The sun rose in the west;
Birds sang form the nest;
I ran out in all delight.

I went out in the open,
Saw school doors closed;
Students sitting in open;
Teachers teaching them.

A few steps farther away
Stood hospital building;
Doctors in patients’ bed
And patients seeing them.

I was in seventh heaven
I wish I were a student;
I felt like falling ill,
To treat a doctor-patient.