Down The Memory Lane I Go Poem by Arundathi Santosh

Down the memory lane I go,
Not finding the white rose or the doe.
I don’t like to share these memories of mine,
Because my story is not as fine.

I was born with nothing,
Neither the doctors nor the surgery-thing.
I worked as a tea boy,
But as a newspaper boy now.

I’ve three sisters and one brother,
And dying, but still toiling mother.
Never to school we went,
Because money no body to us ever lent.

You may find this shocking. Or boring,
Maybe everyone are snoring.
No one takes pity on us,
Because we are the unprivileged.