We both scurried through the street
Half noticing the adorned window shops
Ignoring the passersby
Making way through the many stops
She pulled my hand...
Nodding, making her curls dance...
with a dangling, questioning strand
Her soft nudge stopped me for a split second
"Why are they sleeping over there mother?"
They - a few humans on the grey pavement
"They" had layers and layers of colorless clothes..
With stitches a few but torn threads the most
Hair no match to the soft curls she had
They were dry, damaged like cobwebs in dirty wells
I look at them against my wish
Squinting, hiding the distaste at seeing "them" there
Their sight was hopelessness at its peak
No silver linings to spare
Home is what they don't have my dear
A cozy place to call their own
They are not that lucky the way we are
you, me and dad in our house next to the pier
She nodded emphatically as if understanding every bit
I too jerked it off as if matter of fact
A few humans don't make the world dull
There are roses, lilies, poppies and happy days to mull
It was cloudy and the drizzle touched our skin
Time to hurry back leaving "them" behind
As if they don't exist
Days have passed - beautiful sunny ones
Rains have come and gone leaving the air ...
chilly as we make the fire woods burn
It is one such night with snow in my porch
My car is shivering in the garage while I close the main door
I head towards her room - to sing her a new lullaby
Only to see her on the floor next to her favorite toy
My dear, this is not the place to sleep..
My voice a bit shaky from a surprised me
"I am just passing my luck to them
They - whom we left a few months back there
They who don't have home and roof and bed
They - whom the world doesn't seem to care
I give mine a bit to them...
A few drops of luck, as we have loads to share"
