Insufficiency holds sway,
Dawn chauffeurs meagre segments,
In this ambience, the children play,
Anticipating their paltry fragments.
Homes wear a sombre look,
Nothing delightful to cook,
The furniture is worn out and spent,
Dilapidated and bent.
Vacation is too much of a luxury,
Hands are dutiful in domestic drudgery,
Children wear undersized and patched attire,
At nightfall, with these, they retire.
Opulence is seen as an illusion,
A treasure hidden in the deep,
Out of reach until they go to sleep,
Away from the world of seclusion.
First Place Podium Finish on Poetry Soup.
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