Image Source: www.everyone.savethechildren.net

Image Source: www.everyone.savethechildren.net

Oh thou, my child!

Why torn robes you wear?

My little sister sleeps inside, she said

She needs a cosy nap and bed.

Oh thou, my boy,

Why wound your thumb on facet?

An extra hand, he said, to feed my kin,

they need;  an early altruism, I say, to begin.

Oh thou, puny girl,

Has your mom seen you carrying the load?

She waits the other end, cutting slabs, she said,

I endure a little to relieve her sore,

Not much the ache my mother bears, I swear.

I bought a fancy bangle, she said;

A cosmopolitan in one hand, and a Gucci on other,

She drops the crystal down and looks,

For a hand to pick the shattered.

A toddler of six walks inside with a broom,

 And picks the left of the wreck.

The tots learnt an early lesson of life,

Bed of roses is dream; they know and abide by,

Kilns, carpets and gem cutting, is their fate today, and life.

Their mothers’ need a hand; not delicate and fine,

Their fathers’ need an earner, a hand well bred.

Thou, my child, oh minor,

Play a game of ball;

Your tiny little palms then rest,

To learn another rhyme, no dime.

Oh Mercy the child, show mercy!

School is where they should be.

They play, they roll; they learn and goal,

A silver lining, for a tale untold to shine.

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