Because I am poor
I sweat for others
With my fragile limbs
And little puny fingers.
Hail to the Creator
Who prudently demarcates
Between the unsolicited me
And His heart’s favorites.
My childhood fizzles out
In the fins of roads and factories
Brooking the rueful wintry nights
In the porch of wooden families.
Toys and books cuddle my eyes
But often they succumb to reality
Yet the fortunes of happy wings
Entice my thoughts and cupidity.
Where the world whines and dreams
For the savor of luxury
Lamenting for one square meal
Is the plum of my utter penury.
Bowing down to the time’s ordeals
The hunger, tirades and coarseness
But no one soothes my throe
For being a low-priced redress.
Wish I could relish my holy springtime
Revamping the dark and sloppy days
Toys, Numbers and Alphabets
That’s all I want to love and praise.
