As the temple bell hum around,
forehead of priest touches the ground.
The day begins - hymns and chants,
while a monk waters the plants.
A red flag waving atop the dome,
the scent of incense - a divine home.
The priest in saffron, picking flowers,
he does it daily, in the early hours.
Some birds chirp, while some flies,
a thing of beauty, for innocent eyes.
People throng through temple gate,
eager to change their written fate.
Prayer and murmur from faith arose,
day after day as the time goes.
The holy priest pray and preach,
alike for the beggars or the rich.
Prasenjit©1997-2012
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