They may be so beautiful
When they speak out aloud
Little children smiling at you
Little bundles of joy
But they do for the whole day
And well into the night
Selling goods on the railways
Selling the joys of young life...
They polish your new shoes
They are cleaning your house
They bring your newspaper
They play with your child
They sweat all their blood
So much and so easily
Never ever giving you a clue
That they are yet tired....
They are cleaning your house
They bring your newspaper
They play with your child
They sweat all their blood
So much and so easily
Never ever giving you a clue
That they are yet tired....
You make laws to protect them
You write poems on their plight
Then one day you realize
Their hunger and their cries
They are the deprived
They are the slaves of their fate
They have started their battle
They have no time to waste....
When your day has been tiring
When you are sighing with a yawn
When you are ending the poem
And you look out on the lawn
A faint voice is whistling
Under the moonlight’s calm
A little warrior is still pushing
His wheelbarrow on.......
You write poems on their plight
Then one day you realize
Their hunger and their cries
They are the deprived
They are the slaves of their fate
They have started their battle
They have no time to waste....
When your day has been tiring
When you are sighing with a yawn
When you are ending the poem
And you look out on the lawn
A faint voice is whistling
Under the moonlight’s calm
A little warrior is still pushing
His wheelbarrow on.......
3 comments:
good one.. keep writing there every now and then..
Keep it up,Sambhavi Krishspeare
Had i been a man, or been one of a different orientation; i would have married you for this one, fantastic
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