She draws a pail of water,
her golden locks shine in sun.
No time for her kiddish loiter,
unlike others, she has none.
She does the chores daily,
while gets the usual scorn.
Though it is undeserving really,
as she works from night to morn.
She wipes and sweeps the floor,
with her innocent tender hands.
Bonded to work door to door,
as is the fate of miserable bands.
She neither laments nor wails,
as she does not play her pranks.
Till today fetches water in pails,
and remains neglected in all ranks.
Prasenjit©1997-2012
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