A destitute past 18 in the train
She’s got her wares to sell
A few toys and a plastic dream
To escape the nightmare in which she dwells
She wails and bargains a price
While she soothes her baby ill
He is all of four with flowing nose
No thought for his tattered clothes
He bears a perturbing smell
His hair’s in curls matted with dirt
His nails covered with grime
Yet each day he learns a new nursery rhyme
To dust my life is shattered
The young mother thinks
Tough my life is, so be it
But I'll never let him sink
Her stubborn hope holds her on
Her sleeping baby and a rattling sound
1 comment:
err.... why have the baby then in first place?
nicely written dear ... oh and btw this is Nishant here
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