Autumn is still around for the fan to stop spin,
The blades are on their jobs though made of tin;
Up on the ceiling, and on and on at its best
Blowing the hot air cool without any rest!
Sweats do dry up, the body re-energizes,
Scorn of heat is gone: a fan simply surprises!
Puffs of air travel to my nose and cheeks,
It’s been a constant routine for many weeks!
I curse the heat but the fan’s there for a pitch,
Fixed to the concrete and controlled by a switch;
Every corner of the room is under its scan,
My papers though stay careful of the same fan!
Days and nights, its job is to keep me cool,
If it fails, just a screwdriver is the tool!
Come winter and you shall take full rest,
Till then, please do your best!
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