Scavenger Life

Scarves of the scavenger kids, Were drawn tighter, As their tattered clothes, Were vented to let cold in, It was growing colder with each passing day, And the day's heat of collecting rags, Petered fast enough with onset of evening, By the time night grew to a shivering height, The kids had a tough time, Huddling together in that impromptu orphanage, Which they called home, The kids drew tighter the scarves, As they tried to sleep with injecting cold, A bowl of hot soup and gruel for dinner, Gave them little to fight fatigue and cold, Each one of them wondered, When would a break come their way? Or they would go on like this, Perhaps perish or Grow up to be a battered old.