At a junction where people roam,
Some gazing at heavens, some straight,
Buried in their own worlds,
Hear not the cry of the girl seated.
The girl lies by the sidewalk dirty,
No cars, no dolls, but scars and a trolley,
The sole toy she has garbage it carries,
A present from a mother dear.
No fancy dresses and perfumes naught,
Yet a white uniform that sunbathes,
On that fetid pavement she studies,
Without a Rupee for books or pencils.
She gobbles her food while,
The greedy crows join a royal luncheon.
Does she not delight in the taste of dust,
On her plate called the Queen’s Road.
This is Karma say who,
The guardians of stray canines washed and clean.
The dogs on the photographs warmly shared,
They but revel in man’s folly.
Oh little Queen don’t you worry,
Warm hearts dwell that shall feed thee,
And the sun shall shine on thyself,
Sharing a meal at His house serene.