He flies
his tattered kite
and runs barefoot
through the pavement.

The summer shines on his innocence
as he smiles his way
to assist his poor father
in his rag picking work.

Despite the hardwork,
they are paid in alms.
He accepts the gift of hardwork
with a smile.

His father gives
his semi-orphan child
a penny to dwell
for the day.

He runs
with his kite-
his year-old friend
towards the fields.

To pluck a petal of happiness
growing in the meadows of poverty.
And catch the wings of imagination
perched on the stalks of despair.

Malnourished,
prolonged hunger,
no status in the society
defines his state, his truth.

But his entire fascination lies in his kite,
whose life is alike him-
torn and ragged
taking a failed flight in the sky of life.

At night,
he comes back home-
A cloth shed
at the pavement.

He lays with his kite
and closes his eyes,
keeping his hand over it.
A poor child, fondly called the Kite Runner.

Author Note:
This poem is dedicated to povertized children and it primarily attempts to convey that like the kite runner, who despite being a poor, semi-orphaned child finds happiness in what he gets, we should try and be happy with what we have.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.