Sonnet On A 'plaugh Puller' Poem by Indranil Bit

Each day of the year he trolls back!
Back from the field of golden corn,
Tired n aching with uncertain eyes,
Only to chew a loaf n dream no hope!

One day he looked up while coming back,
A pair of sparkling eyes amist the crowd,
A crowd of un-named stars in the decor,
Only to make the moon dream to hope!

Each day of the year since its enacted,
There's a gala retreat from the golden fields,
No more omen can haunt him in thoughts,
Days turn bright, sky cuddles blue to hope!

Tis' lies the crowning of a plough-puller story,
Kingship only a fuss, a quest for the unbound.