BLOOD OF RUBBER


rubber tapping

 

Except the dark night who is around. 
No on can listen those mute sound.
Not weeping but bleeding rubber tree,
At early morning he is  waiting for fresh wound.

Farmer is now a tapper as nature can see,
Ready with knife to take latex as his job fee,
From the thick and soft plant’s bark,
From the soft skin of a Deaf dump tree,

Slow wind is moving as balm in nature park,
White blood dripping from the cross mark,
Into the tub of farmer hanging there,
To keep the shining milky moon in dark

Pain of harvest time young plants have to bear,
About this they all are very well aware,
Returning back the profit to workers, 
And waiting for nature to change and come to care