My father said we were to pack up soon,
A long walk; because I wasn't born with a silver spoon.
I asked if I could bring my bat and ball,
But he said I would get one when they would reopen the mall.
I waved goodbye to my friends at the site,
The construction workers with whom I spent every night.
The mother carried the heaviest load among us,
After all, didn't she carry bricks without a fuss?
My father said we were to walk home to the village,
Yet my blistered feet did not give much mileage.
He said we would work in the fields and harvest,
But I was hungry and in need of rest.
My mother says a virus is here to stay,
To remain indoors is the only way,
But my father asks, what about our monthly pay,
And so I'm walking; to a place far away.
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