An Orphan at Footpath

image

Torn clothes,
patched heart,
Barbed eyes
and frenetic life
Lived with agony.
Sewn by mockery.
Has got eyes but
couldn’t figured out
Who really is he?
Where does he belong?
Only the wind that blows
Knows his roots.
Footpath – his sweet home,
No homesickness.
Begging – his profession,
No more greed of more pennies.
Morning – a curse to him,
Night – an uncertainty.
Although,
he has no one to call his own,
He lives in merriment,
He lives in peace and
He believes,
If people changes,
one thing will never change
And that is his sweet home “Footpath”..


©kiranbantawa2013
Photo: flickriver

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s