Poem -- A bowl of fake fruit on a table

We call it sometimes extravagantly decorated...
Most of the time we call it a place of living...
Where decorated arts highlighted in every corner...
And money flaunts its beauty.

Guests here takes entry....
Like a colorful butterfly ....
With a plastic smile and flattery words ...
And ears open to get some spicy information.

Foods are costly here ...
Decorated in imported utensils...
But pride takes all over the place...
And the guests are still waiting.

A bowl of fake fruit...
In front of the guests...
Not to satisfy the hunger...
But to display the affluence...
And to pacify the flaring ego.



















































© @Susmita263