Hurray! It was a strike and queen was mine!
The game of carrom,
Which all of us played to kill our boredom!
Some tea on the side to sip,
The fried snacks were added bliss!
A game of four,
Be it young or old, all on the same floor!
If ever found our striker falling to foul,
Our heart was almost out in the bowl!
Every coin hold its own place,
Just as our goals in the life’s race!
We own the striker,
Push it hard when the coin is stuck in between,
Just a soft blow is enough,
When the goal is at the extreme!
Just as our dreams and wishes,
Scattered are the coins of black and white,
Having wide varieties of opportunities wide and bright;
We always have only the Queen at our sight!
Let’s not forget the time,
When we had queen in our line,
We were supposed to be the king,
But a friend with highest coins was the one who wins!
Not to forget,
If at all to pocket the queen,
Striking of another coin is a need,
Covering her was not just luck as it is seen:)