When I saw the young girl playing in the swing, my heart was melting. She must be around 8 years and the place was none other than an orphanage. She was dark in her school uniform with double plaited hair.
I tried to put myself in her shoes and out came this small dissection of one shade of emotion at that particular moment.
Why do you want
To visit my home?
Do you
Flock to see me
Care to touch me
Bend to hold me
Only to realise & publicise
The poverty of mine
And fortune of yours
In this world
Do you know
Your framed
Gesture of generosity
Picture of goodwill
Expression of compassion
Tumbles my emotions a bit
With a question
‘What is the motive of your visit?’
Let me tell you one thing
Do not visit me
Out of sympathy
Do not spoil me
With momentary love
But do see me
With respect for what I am
Are you aware
When you have so many
To serve and love you
You complain
Of desolate mind
And lonely world
Let me tell you
I know not to complain
For I am thrust with patience
And I know not to crave
Though I am born with ignorance
Yet beware
My peals of laughter echoes
In my crowded home
Not with your language of love
But gets expressed
Only in the way
I know, feel, emote and realise
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