Yesterday night was a chilly night,
In the morn I saw poor on the road,
Begging fit sustaining food,
But for rags and torn out clothes.
The chill of the winter,
Must have reached their bones,
There is no flesh on their bodies,
To bear the cold.
His teeth must have cluttered for the whole night,
As the cold wave struck mercury down,
They must have all hurdled together,
To face the winters frown.
Close to the realms of nature,
Facing it's roughest tones,
Poor of 21st century,
Faces the Paleolithic cold.
Begging on the road for mercy,
Hoping against all hope,
Dreaming for fulfillment of his needs,
The beggar on the street doth stroll.
Poor walk on the Street with outstretched hands,
Poorer still doth simply fold,
How can they part with their rags,
It's too cold to throw out the old.
Waking on the roads are the poor ones,
Inside are the poorer still ,
Whose poverty lies in their opulence,
Opulent yet poorer still.