Poetry

Always
In all the ages
They are underprivileged.
In whatever name we call them
They are street-children.
 
They sleep by the side of the road
As they are  homeless.
Scraps of food they eat
Left in the plate eaten by others.
 
They are humans
Made of flesh and blood .
But are neglected
Ignored , despised
Wretched and abhorrent one.
 
Life encompassed with
Endless sorrows and pains.
Dilapidated and decayed through ages.
Stricken with poverty
Can’t manage their livelihood
So, they’ve to be content with
Whatever comes ready to hand.
 
But they have desire
To express delight and choice.
A far-sighted dream
To fly in the open sky at large.
They want to be enlightened.
 
Is it a curse for them
To be borne as street-children ?
Can’t we extend our helping hands
Towards them a little ?
To decorate their life
To give them equal value
Above all, to create an illuminated society.