Talkative Stranger: A Poem by Sheela S. Iyer

In our teeny-weeny town, this stranger I met

He was dark and handsome yet.

Fascinated with this enchanting newcomer,

I introduced him to our family members.


Our gaze glued on him,

On our faces, joy brimmed.

He sat silently in one corner,

Staring at us, waiting for our order.


He wove fascinating stories;

We also watched great movies.

He led us on a tour of the circus,

Causing an upsurge in happiness.


The stranger spoke non-stop at times,

Sometimes Good while bad at other times.

Yet he was rarely reprimanded,

And never asked to leave or abandon


It’s over three decades he’s been in that town,

Lying in one corner with none around

Waiting to talk and someone to listen

We lovingly call him Television.