Even in heavy rush, 
they knew scattering. 
Running down the rock full rails, 
injected barefoot of young males. 
From catching one to another, 
moving from this to that, 
and, back and forth. 
The littles were called hawkers. 

Today, the regular small one, 
brought a smaller one. 
Practiced him selling age, dreams and poverty. 
In a world inside the coach, railing;
Peeped me from the gaps revaling. 
Brothers ragged in, makes me feel naked, Why? 
Eyeing man could courage lying, 
But could contact the boy eye to eye? 

With the experienced days, 
Maturity took over innocence likeways. 
When the boy observed, observing observer;
My grin grew slowly, rapidly. 
But age didn't justice for an ignorer, 
Turning his head, makes me feel worried; Why? 
The day's hard work, I suspected. 
As the smile didn't return, unexpected. 

.    .    .