The Glass Window
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Children of the street
dance in the first rain,
Screaming with delight.
Barefoot and half naked.
Surrounded with the comfort,
of money and fame..
I steal greedy glances through
the impersonal window frame.
Safety of Grandma’s arms and
the beauty of her weathered face -
I am trying to remember,
fighting hard to forget.
Trapped in the addictive -
golden coffin of success,
I live my death
in tiny instalments.
© Chhaya
I forbid any comparison between Slumdog Millionaire and this poem... :
