We are fortunate that we are living a life which has most of the facilities. Not everyone is born so fortunate.
There are many children in our country who have to work as child labourer or have to beg to earn money for their survival. I wrote a poem for them about an year ago. It goes like this :
A voice that no one heard,
An unseen face,
He resides at the roadside,
An awful, dirty place.
He sleeps on the bed,
Of pebbles and stones,
Noise of vehicles passing by,
Comprise his lubally tones.
Every morning he begs,
People to people, door to door,
And evening he spends,
Near the sea shore.
He wishes to swim,
Across the blue sea,
But he knows he is caged,
In nailed cage of poverty.
No mother to love,
No father to care,
He walks on the road,
With his feet bare.
He struggles all alone,
For his every breath,
He is not alive,
He is living his death.
He is a boy of ten,
With no hope, no light,
He needs a home and family,
To make his life bright!!
They don’t know the facts, theories or philosophies of life, but they know how to face the struggles and find happiness in small things.