As the Earth goes round the Sun
The world works round the clock.
People go to work,or work from home.
Work is both hard and soft;
Hard work at times,goes soft;
And soft work turns maddeningly hard.
It is true a queen once said,
'Computers cannot generate compassion'.
Maternal laps ache with their laptops,
While babies to be cuddled,long for the laps.
Markets are busy with men and materials,
With growth-dreams saved as files.
Labour is conceived,gestated and delivered,
Making each labour,a symbol of motherhood.
From the richest of the world to the poorest,
Each one works for profit and survival.
Self-interest is the driving fuel of labour;
But self-interest at the cost of others,
Transforms winning work into a wily wolf,
Ditching the victims of work to wail over their sweat.
A May day celebration meatily meets its goal,
When it makes each drop of sweat,stay sweet.
If wealth is justly spread in terms of labour,
Each labour-day call,carries its Midas touch.
P.Chandrasekaran.
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