this is one of my least liked poems among my friends, but i have a sort of weak point for it... perhaps thats bcoz parents are a bit supportive about their weaker kids... i hope you like it..  

                                   half-a-pound sugar

“Had money been a fruit in my courtyard’s banyan tree,
I would have distributed all my items for free.
But, my dear young lady, that is not the case,”
The grocer, Kishore, looked at Champa with a grumpy face.
“Don’t shout at me,” Champa said, “I’m not a beggar.
I will pay you back soon; I just want half-a-pound sugar.”
Champa knew Kishore for almost six years now
Ever since she came here with Moti as an orphan child.
In these six years, she had grown up and changed a lot, and
Unlike earlier, she is no longer clumsy, anxious and mild.
“Go away, I don’t have sugar for you,” shouted Kishore,
“I give on credit to normal men, not to a fucking whore.”
Champa turned and went back, dropping a tear behind:
She knew why the smiling monster suddenly turned unkind.
A fortnight back, on a rainy night, Kishore came
But she was afraid and so she declined him.
She was not sure but knew that Kishore was ill.
Her mates said that the disease passes and can kill.
Today she wanted half-a-pound sugar
But there was no other grocer around.
It was an urgent need yet no option was to be found.