While standing under the satellite tree
Staring at the over-flooded tank
Water flowing down from it
And grasses jubilates the embrace of it's coldness
And my consciousness flipped to thinking. How beautiful it is.
I heard a beautiful sound from within
An engine was on to pump the water
And that change the meaning of my thinking.
The flowing water stopped and then I take my leave.
I walked not so far from where I was standing
I then saw one kid gazing down under the palm tree
At a time when every child must have been in school
I mourn the innocence of that kid
And wondering who the mother of that child must be. I took a deep breath
And tears roll down my cheeks.
It looks absolutely beautiful
Like a new frames of flowers
To see some mothers holding the hands of their kids
And showing them where to put their fingers and what not to touch
And not leaving them walk barefooted.
It tastes bitter like a rusted acid from the unused battery
To see some mothers leaving their pre-mature kids gazing down under a shadowless trees
And changing positions as the sun moves
Watching their pears going and coming back from schools.
As the time clocks noon
They start to think for their stomach.
After chasing the hunger,
The motherless kids looks for next tree to crash again,
Clapping to the tune of no hope
And no future designed for them.
MR B
©hammabee
H