The Walk

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.

My 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.