10 Mar

Carved on a Child’s mind a preacher’s words rang,
Treading earth and Filth with hardened soles
His puny hands sorting out Post sell-by discards
Past his black -Cracked lips,
Behind his Camouflaged teeth, by his parched throat,
Just below that;
His empty stomach treated him to a Sumptuous DrumBeat…
Neither dance nor hum escaped his Countenance,
had he not heard it before?
None but a Sigh!
How he yearned for Heaven where there Flowed ‘Manna’ enough
For A days meal!

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Posted by on March 10, 2011 in Social Issues


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