Living on a farm

Living on a farm

I guess it’s too late to live on a farm.

The city holds me tight with all its charm.

I don’t know how to till the land,

Which crop goes with which sand.

Neither can I milk a cow,

Nor can I work a plough.

Pigs will stare at me in alarm,

As I stand helpless with my writing arm.

I’ve never learnt farming.

All I can do is some feeble writing.

So, I guess it’s too late to live on a farm.

I have to make do with the city’s charm.

©ArchanaSarat2015