Vera Sidhwa Poems
Children On The Streets Of India
The girl of twelve told me,
A different but then the same story,
That boy of four told me,
His idea of what life should be.
But I different from them,
And yet the same.
Couldn't understand that life's game,
Couldn't even spare THEM,
These very newly arrived, happy and eager ones.
Their laughter, giggles and grin,
Their baby souls with hardly a sin,
Would eventually face such challenges,
That even many adults wouldn't.
These were children of another reality.
But these children were just like others,
With conditions ...
Pink And Yellow Flowers
Pink and yellow flowers spoke of my life's glory days.
Yellow and pink edged the garden which
Filled my eyes with colors.
The sinking sun though, that sun whose late evening hue,
Bothered my soul and as it sank, so did I.
The aches of my recent past, the slide show that went fast,
Witnessed that happiness could not last.