age. pain. Poetry responsible tender

The Child Folds

A cruelty abominable

The child with tired eyes

sits there with no choice

goes about in endless tries

folds the leaves in speed

knows not its end-use and need

the tenderness of the hand is lost indeed.

wrinkled the tiny fingers look

mangled they seem almost hooked

yet the tiny hands manipulate  without brook

with tears in the eyes  welling beedi_1

and pain in the face pricking

a meagre amount in the pocket filling

the innocent eight-year-old turns responsible.

By meenas17

A lover of classical Carnatic music.
An avid reader, passionate writer, into stocks and investments for livelihood

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