At street number 35
In Lawson’s bay colony
There’s a rich boy
Enjoying sumptuous cuisines with
His friends and relatives
Having a barbecue,
Italian pasta, spaghetti with
Prawns and chilli, butter chicken,
Pancakes and orange juice.
Everybody is flooded with euphoria.
A look of ecstasy on their faces
Reminds me of the cornucopia of pleasures
I’ve enjoyed in my life
And then there’s a poor boy
Living on the roads
Of the same colony
Not like the pauper
In the famous novel
The Prince and the Pauper
By Mark Twain
Rather in tattered clothes
With innocent looks and emaciated
In the throes of bitter childhood
Eating their leftovers
From the dustbin
His hunger reminds me
Of the situations when
I really felt helpless
And had no choice.
But to all of us
It’s a reminder of
Our poverty-stricken nation
Our bad habit of
Throwing food away
Forgetting that it can satiate
The appetite of the destitute children
It’s a reminder of our obligation
To eradicate poverty by
Serving the underprivileged.
