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.