By Deshna Jain
She stood there on the edge of the road,
Three unsold flowers in her hand,
Like impending doom,
Their thorns plucked her heart more than her fingers
The big bad old man will be waiting
He'll take most of the money again
Months of polished excuses (only half true)
"Ma is sick again"
"What about bhaiya's school fee?"
"But saheb, I haven't eaten in two days"
Won't work on him.
They never did.
Every passing car had a happy lucky child inside
Some had toys in their hands,
Some had pretty bracelets
She closed her eyes and scolded herself much like her mother did most nights after baba was done with her,
"You can't dream of things like bracelets,
Worry about what we'll eat tonight,
That is not the real world,
This is. "
She can't tell her mother she doesn't like the way the big bad old man looks at her,
although she has a feeling her mother knows.
She can't tell her mother she doesn't want to sell flowers barefoot on cold foggy nights
"I want to become a police officer. I want to teach that saheb a lesson"-
The words that die on her lips.
Eight years of life were perhaps enough to teach her that dreams don't come true.
She ate the torn up chapati given to her by a madame in a passing car
"At least I got to eat tonight"
And she slept.
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This poem won in Instagram Weekly Contest held by @delhipoetryslam on the theme 'Street Kids'
Each word expressed my heart deep emotion for those children…
Lovely poem! 🥰
Beautiful words, emotions expressed beautifully and truthfully.