Winter

The world has stopped
But not the snow.
In the dark corner of the street,
Stood an orphan,
Looking at the Christmas trees
Glowing across the horizon.

The cold didn’t seem to disturb him,
Though, his clothes were scanty.
His eyes were dry,
Not his heart.
It bled every time
When others, played with their parents.
Maybe, his tears have dried up
After ten Christmas,
And maybe, his blood will dry too
After another ten.

Ceaseless was the snow,
And the orphan was shivering,
But no,
He was crying, a tear-less cry.

His face, trying hard
To betray the emotions.

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