The Three Poem by Naveed Akram

The three were at their table,
Continuing their stare with frost
And ice, the glare of windows was
A parent of the world we call a child.
Who is sniffing me when those three
Are deathly in the slightest?
My real rent is affordable,
My house is in the form of tables.
I have triumphed, for the innocence
Has won its pride and mark.
My best friend was a proud joy,
Clear blue eyes had been his profession.
Let the three of the table be a
Free hand from too much cost.
I have too many being too little,
Grumbling is the best option.