The Beggar maid 

Just a piece of cloth covered

Her withered lean frame.

The heat from the friction

That she has had with life for years had

Shrivelled her skin,

Making it look like the raisins!

Layers of dust

that had risen by her constant journey through life

Sat like a coat on her exposed torso.

Her head was a mass of hair,

Shade darker than her skin

And matted with dirt and grime.

With a gait, unsteady and slow,

Like a toddler’s halting steps,

She came to me and pleaded-“I need some place to sleep! ”

At times like these,

I always wish

that I had the power to play God!

Author: gdutta17

Born in the year 1968, my childhood was spent amidst the beautiful scenic landscape of a small town in India, Ranchi. Though an engineer by qualification, reading, writing and cooking are my passions. Another thing that I am passionate about is my country, India. As they say, a lifetime is probably not enough to explore the whole of India. Currently based in Kolkata, I can be reached at gdutta17@gmail.com.

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