I need to tell you an untotld story,
It involves four ignorant characters,
as for the worls the are blackened glory,
which don't seem fecund to this world of actors...

Everyday in the morning,
sometimes I see a mother too groaning,
But usually there are there are three little stars,
burning in the shadow of a tree...

Two little boys and their very little sister,
keep on playing weird things on a wooden carriage,
sometimes rolling in the field like twister,
hanging on the tree's branch,
seeing beautiful mirage...

Rarely I have seen them getting a brown box,
sitting in the scorching sun,
their mother finally opening their mouth's lock,
feeding them the raw food from their poverty ridden tiffin...

I watch a sight of them in the same sun,
thinkinf if they will get their another tiffin,
when the moon comes...