deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Construction Labourer
He moulds dreams in concrete and steel,
Sometimes in marble and exotic granites,
But irony of fate when he reaches home at night,
Earth becomes his cosy bed,
And open sky becomes his roof.
(To all the homeless labourers who toil hard all day long to build our dream homes yet they do not have any home to return and shelter them)
Sometimes in marble and exotic granites,
But irony of fate when he reaches home at night,
Earth becomes his cosy bed,
And open sky becomes his roof.
(To all the homeless labourers who toil hard all day long to build our dream homes yet they do not have any home to return and shelter them)
Published 24th Sep 2015
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Anonymous
24th Sep 2015 8:24am
Truly sad irony. Dream homes being built by the sad and drealess workers trying to just make ends meet or have a hot meal at night
24th Sep 2015 9:25am
Yes it is truly sad indeed. The words struck my mind on overhearing conversation of two workers working at project site discussing how to cope if it rained that night as they used to sleep on pavement.
