Wistful Eyes

They have nothing, they crave for none Their simple lives are full of fun, They never complain, nor shout Their minds have no clouds of doubt. All those children by the street, All those girls with dainty feet, All those boys, playing in glee Who do mischief, and then flee! And whenever one passer-by Happens to come before their eyes, They run to join him at his side And then open their palms out wide. But no one cares for them a bit And no one makes their faces lit And never are their wishes met They are, but the victims of hate. And one day when they came to me And in earnest voices, did plea I stood still, I could not reply Although within, my mind did cry. I walked on, disappointing them With my head, hanging down in shame; And even today, my soul sighs As I look at their wistful eyes.