Homeless

                                                            Homeless

                  

The chill is here, the sun has set,

the homeless poor begin to fret.

I wonder if I’d survive this night,

if again my loved would meet my sight.

The whole day spent begging here and there,

in a world that little cares.

“No work for you”, is all they said,

looking with disdain at my impaired leg.

Devoid of penny, I began to beg.

Day after day I bow and bend,

for my kith, to whom my qualms are sent.

I brave the sun, the rain and the snow

with a dream in my eyes

that one day into a fine man, my kid shall grow

then in joy and mirth, I shall rise

and speak of the struggle, sitting in my paradise.

For beggars in this pitiless town,

where most look at us in contempt and frown, 

getting a penny is a fiendish task

so I beg from dawn to dusk.

A grueling day, my soul seeks rest.

Watch the birds fly back to their nest.

The nest, their home, so warm and dry,

unlike the cold streets where I lie.

The cold bitter wind rips my veins

as I lay tattered in a narrow lane.

The nature blows sans mercy,

harping upon the city’s apathy.

I close my eyes and see the kid and my wife,

the ones to whom I have dedicated my life.

They stay in a hamlet far from here,

staying so far, yet so close and near.

The warm memory even in the cold so vile,

brings on my wretched face, a wide smile.

The warmth of it makes my spirit bold,

serves as a quilt in the bitter cold.

Into the land of sleep I descend,

tomorrow again, I’d beg and send

unto my kid grows and says, “Dad, misery ends!”

                                                                                      ~Saurajit Sinha