That Day....

Frustrated, I was smoking down the path,

Disturbed, could barely control my wrath,

And I saw this kid sweeping the lane,

The age of toy cars yet didn't complain.

I saw this old man, heard his silent plea,

Crippled, yet cleaning plates for a cup of tea.

And I saw this labor, bricks over his head,

Under the scorching heat, for a piece of bread.

I saw this blind lady, singing inside the train,

And all I could hear was unimaginable pain.

And I saw this boy picking thrown garbage,

I cursed the people who do it; I was no sage.

I saw this aged man, pulling a loaded cart,

Wrinkles all over the face, yet had a young heart.

And I saw this kid on the road, selling books,

The desire to read, I could see in his looks.

That day, I did see the world through their lens,

And fathomed, my complaints never made sense.

See, what a thing it is to struggle daily for survival,

You fall down once and doubt on your revival?