Pockets of Suits and Rags

Between my fingers there is this space,
that makes it easy to eat food with spoon,
and my ear lobe seems to be something,
I hold and stretch when I feel so cold !

And somewhere near the chest,
seems to be a place where it aches,
when a flower is picked up by the girl,
who then tries to wear it in her ears !

The flower died, as did the old man,
besides my neighbors house on the left side,
who used to shout loud, sometimes at night,
and wake up the dogs near the school pole !

And from eight to nine everyday,
there used to be children's and teen's,
walking down the road to get to the bus,
waiting to reach school at the right time !

But I used to walk to my school,
so that I could count the pebbles in road,
and my dress used to be in mess,
when I returned back home  !

I liked potatoes fried well and served,
I had that freedom to demand food,
but I could see beggars along every way,
choices doomed in the birth felt sinful !

Soon I learned that life moves on,
even if  not in the pockets of branded suits,
but clothes in rags can make a man survive,
in a chilling winter sleeping inside an empty room !