Pearls
They moved hastily on a narrow desolate road
As the sun continued to glide behind horizon.
Their weary little hands, legs and their bowed
Shoulders were vivid relics of toil since dawn.
Life, for these children, is not a playground
But like a battlefield where the soldiers fight
And strive for a certain cause and are bound
To do so until the end of battle or their death.
Exhausted; childish thoughts do not pervade
Their mind and they just eat earned morsels,
Then keep gossiping until sleepy eyes fade
Away in distant fantasy land of little angels.
Here, on this real world, these angels sleep
On messy footpath with partners of sorrow.
They lay there like scattered pearls in deep
Ocean, to be worn out today or tomorrow.
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