The smiling people

Down by the river quiet,
Under Neem's tranquil gaze,
When the molten heart dies,
The thin dusk settles down,

You will find them smiling still.

Wiping the dusters dirty,

The smiling people smile,

In the face a hundred woes,

The whirlpools keep churning,

Yet the smile does not fade.

And often it is but a farce,

An empty smile's silent theater,

Dialogues without content,

Whitewashed fallen cracks,

Invisible under the blessed bliss.

It is an art, this silent language,

Unspoken words through parting lips,

An canvas wide open to you,

To paint the picture of your wish,

With colours from the waning smile.

And if you only but rub it clear,

Colours much richer shall reveal,

May be a bit dark, a nimble hurricane,

Spinning unseen across ocean's deep,

All hidden by the clever smile.

And yet it is not a burden,

That the smiling people smile,

It is what they know best,

Spreading a bliss unseen,

Instead of storms hidden deep.