Poem: It Rankles When...

It rankles when

They turn down your plea
For new poster colours
And say,
It's not as if you're the next Picasso.

It rankles when
They refuse to buy
A pair of binoculars
And say,
Who are you - the future Salim Ali?

It rankles when
They don't allow you
To use the computer
And say,
Don't act like you're the 21st century Chekhov.

It rankles when
They have no patience
For you playing the piano
And say,
You're not going to be Mozart; leave us alone.

It rankles when
They just don't realize that
We put our hearts in our art
And that
Words, ideas and birds don't wait, like time and tide.

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This poem is dedicated to all those unlucky adults who are ignorant of the joy that we "amateurs" experience when we are involved in doing what we love, be it drawing, writing or singing. And also to the ones who don't understand that we might not be professionals or legends, but we're every bit dedicated as they are.