Born on the streets

I was born on the streets

I feel not shy there

Surrounded by the noise

My loneliness not to awake

But cheer; the passing glances

The passing cars as if different

From another planet

I was born on the streets

With the blue sky my roof

Seeing the bats drop the remains of their booty

By my bed; wet by their fall

The dew, the moist cool breeze

Showing visibly on me like sweat on my forehead

I was born on the streets

I walk among the empty cans

The mountain containers full

Of rubbish: hiding the clear

View of the sun; our food

 Its odor the flies kiss

And surrounds us like they do with mangoes

I was born on the streets

Chasing the cars for a sale

My dad; ice water

Plantain chips on her head

My mother; I learnt

To snatch their purses

Because I must survive.

I was not born but grew on the streets

Because of a shadow of a passing cloud

Which left not on my path

Its acid rain which fell burning

But on my royal gown of gold

My brothers me forsook as I grew here

I was born on the streets

To feel not the cold in winter

Nor the sun my heart to melt

Walk by it in the day my food to search

Like the vulture

Where no one else will

I was born on the streets

Like an outcast

They saw me ; my life

They bothered not until time for elections

When they come near to convince me

Walking among the cans with me

I was born with a golden  chest

On the streets my key to this chest

I found not; because my

Mind though ready and fertile

To embark on whatever

Journey, long or short; had not

The directions but to grope in this dark

I was born on the streets

I grew up and earned my bread there

I once slept there but not anymore

They will sleep in my house

If time and tide pass me by

Not to suffer like I did, on the streets.