“There is a letter,
A letter for you,”
Said the man in the khaki,
Knocking at the door,
Saying with a namaste,
The folded hands,
The man in the uniform
With a bunch of dead letters,
Sorting to give,
But gave he not.
“Sorry, mistook you,
See you again,
I am going,”
Said the man
Looking coloured
And with a smile
Over the face,
The rural disguiser
Showman.
