She lives on the street
By the side festooned with garbage
Squatting amongst the muck thrown by folks
Rags around her torso -skin and bones
Dishevelled hair knotted with dirt and lock
Gaze, that goes through, from the deep set eyes.
Picking pebbles with her bonny fingers
Throwing listless, as if staving something afar!
Sun or rain, day or night,
she is there amongst the heap of waste.
Picking at times at the
remnants of food ,squander -thrown at random
from the messy mess by the road.
She throws the crumps at the dogs that lurk
rummaging the muck amongst that she dwells!
I see her each day, a ghostly shadow,
a distant semblance of human form.
Ruth and anguish snaring me,
I bought a pack of shiny white rice
with curry thrown atop, I gathered to reach her.
She turned around in her squat
And seemed to tell me with her eyes
Why bring me that? Why prolong me here?
The soul has left me long ago, and the breath soon will,.
So why, brother why, bring me any morsel?