// His stomach is not habitual of bearing
So much food he got in a day. //
That morning when I woke up for jog, the smashing noise of rain were coming from my window.
I went outside to feel the pleasure it brings with every drop while in the mean time a boy around 6 paved a way inside my house through garden walls.
For time being when my stomach growled, the season wanted some pakoda with milky tea.
My eyes astound witnessing the wholly disturbed kitchen with distinctive marks of small feet.
I searched for the beggar all my house to scold him for his un-endurable extreme thing.
When I saw a cold boy hiding under my slap eating my only burger so
pleasure-ly.
The dirt on his face and cloths and hands was like he’d not washed himself for years.
Eyes shining too bright, with torn-out clothes in cold weather, eating burger with small tears.
I held his hand in mine when he crawled on my knees begging for the meal.
I showed him some more to see his eyes turning bright in outer lightning.
And I heard the replicating growl of starving stomach all throughout the hilarious day.
And happiness became my pleasure meal with pakoda and tea on that day.
Poetry Pot 