The Gifted Child

Years ago, in a distant land,

Lived a hapless man.

Toiling hard in burning sand,

He earned as much as he can.

In sweat and blood, he dug the soil,

And planted staple crop.

To fetch a bread, through quivering toil,

His hands must never stop.

One dark night, when the winter broke,

Down the snowcapped hills.

A little child, with a tiny cloak,

Cried beneath his wheels.

The poor man, in nervous eyes,

Rushed him to his house.

He had hardly enough rice,

To feed his meagre spouse.

He placed him at the fire place,

To gain some warmth and heat.

The little child with smiling face,

Looked so calm and sweet.

The farmer rushed to neighbours door, 

To seek some milk and food.

Poor man had little store,

To feed him for his good.

He came back with a trivial meal,

And fed that bubbly child. 

He felt mirthful, gratified deal,

To save him from the wild.

He took the boy and slept the night, 

Peaceful vibes of dream.

The lonesome farmer, saw a light, 

Which filled his mortal whim.

A bright silhouette stood so still,

Gleaming rays of light.

He heard a voice, down the hill,

Tearing through the night.

A gift of God, to soak thy pain,

The child is still asleep.

Save him from the world of men,

Love him true and deep. 

He will bring you wealthy gain,

He will bring you joy.

He will drain out all thy pain,

A lucky little boy.

Hearing this, the poor soul,

Got up in a while.

He looked beyond the lanky pole, 

Barren were each mile.

By now he knew, he saw a dream,

That spoke of truth and bliss.

He could hear the wavy stream,

Rattling with a hiss.

The morning next, a scarlet sky,

Hugged him out of sleep.

An ocean of work, pulled him high,

The child is still asleep.

His wife had left her bed so long,

To bathe in the morning sun.

She too had a hungry song,

To sing for jovial fun.

They gazed the sky, to see no rain,

Earth had a million cracks.

No food to feed them yet again,

Empty were their sacks.

Snowballs filled all arid zones,

White were hefty trees.

They could hear some hunger groans,

Beyond the field of leas.

Two hungry souls and now a child,

How could he survive?

A little boy, he found in wild,

Had brought a happy vibe.

Poor peasant now took a choice, 

To set off for the west.

Soon he proclaimed his hungry voice, 

To leave their earthen nest.

Two cows so lean in hunger thirst, 

Still they could not speak.

They pulled the cart with wheels of rust, 

For a couple of days or weak.

The western lands were warm a bit,

Winters spoke so mild.

Sun rays came in through the slit,

To bathe the hungry child.

Poor man in search of job,

Knocked from door to door.

One kind heart, felt his sob,

And gave him yet some more.

A little hut, by the lane,

A job to plough his field.

The poor man did see again,

A light of hopeful yield. 

Few more days had rolled away,

And one day they could see.

The kind man had things to say,

Sitting beneath a tree.

I can smell my death so near,

My heart is slowing down.

I have none so close and dear,

In this mortal town. 

So I wish to gift my house, 

And all these earthly things.

To you and your loving spouse,

You two are noble beings.

Your little child is heaven's pride, 

He's here to free us all.

His gleaming eyes do gaze so wide,

Like the gracious ball.

Saying these he gasped again,

His breath had pulled a line.

The kind man was wise and sane,

Flooding their eyes in brine.

In a blink, the poor man,

Had grown so rich in wealth.

His little child, in smiles began,

To gaze at daddy's health. 

The words were true as he heard,

In dreams, years behind.

This little boy is a gifted bird,

The farmer felt in mind. 

Now they lived a decent life,

No hunger and no pain.

No agony ever brought them strife, 

In this world of men.