She picks the boxes from the doors –
The Christmas boxes of the rich.
And sometimes some leftover cake.
And sometimes some leftover trees.
Her kids might love to have all this.
The boxes they can burn for heat.
The cake can thicken up the milk.
The trees can make a winter roof.
Her kids might also hate it all.
They hate to wake to fan the fire.
They hate to drink their milk entire.
They hate to even pick a plier.
She rather trade it all for cash
And buy herself some opium.
Minakhi Misra 