Maid Servant

She scarcely has any dreams,


She only seems,


Like a shadow,


Alive with sorrow.


 

Each day appears to be same,


Has nothing to claim,


Only companions of her,


Being the kitchen utensils all over.


 

Even if she is tormented,


She is not permitted,


To raise her voice,


Lives like a mute doll, she has no choice.


 

When the children,


Leave for school then,


She thinks about going occasionally,


But fate has chained her desires eternally.


 

Out of so-called kindness she is given!


The waste and stale food now and then,


Which she devours like a famished lioness,

 

To live on, to exist in the race, loveless!

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bishu's picture

Very nice my friend

Very very nice ode to those who toil for a pittance in India & Bangladesh my friend. I attach a link of an old poem of mine on these hapless unsung creatures

http://www.postpoems.org/authors/bishu/poem/964692


©bishu 

 

KingofWords's picture

Thank you

Thank you so much.