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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Emotional · #1993108
Originally intended to be about child labour. Could be a more abstract concept too.
Amongst flaming Red Gulmohars,
Saunter two curious feet:
Soft lay the green grasses,
Beneath crisp, parched, stubborn barks.
The eyes feel around,
And finally pause upon
A child of juvenile garb;
Muddled, tangled tresses
That twist and twirl with the wind,
Bound on the seams of her forehead
Creased with sophistication,
Anxiety and Pains of adulthood…

Her eyes…
Windows to her pilfered soul,
As she forages for something
That ought to best dwell on minds
Decades older.

Her back bends,
With the weight of a livelihood,
And the weight
Of the eons of childhood,
That pass us by as seconds,
But are whisked off her destiny,
As her worth is all that can pay.

Her body,
Fragile, inept at deciphering
The Wonders of the World,
Flail in feeble rebellion:
The kind that sets
The Gulmohars on fire,
Whilst the sun just pours
All unto those who can bear.




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Gulmohar trees are also known as- Delonix regia, or the Flamboyant or Royal poinciana. The flowers of this tree bloom bright red and are a contrast to the green canopies of other surrounding trees.

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