<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=533472" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Our World Is Ours</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I was sitting at an airport, <br>looking at the people's ramble, <br>as a wind mill moves with the wind, <br>left to right and then right to left.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There were gentlemen in coats, <br>pretty ladies exposed petticoats, <br>screaming toddlers in the prams, <br>unruly children on the roam.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">People were checking in one by one, <br>Suitcases of dark pink, violet and brown, <br>Wheels carried them while the men pull the strap, <br>there was this guy with a plastic shopping bag.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well dressed young man in twenties, <br>might have carried another set of cloth, <br>wanted to check in his belongings, <br>to the amusement of the regulars.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He was an immigrant worker, <br>traveling thousand miles, <br>across the oceans to find green, <br>that denied even for his dream.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What land was sold to dress him, <br>and provide him that plastic bag? <br>How much loan taken to pay the agent, <br>and for his air ticket? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He held his head high, <br>and I saw the hope in his eyes, <br>For a human whose immigrant Indian father is her Idol, <br>she saw her own father in that young lad.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Veeraiyah+Subbulakshmi">Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=533472" data-title="Our World Is Ours de Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi" data-description="I was sitting at an airport, looking at the people's ramble, as a wind mill moves with the wind, left to right and then right to left. There were gentlemen in coats, pretty ladies exposed petticoats, screaming toddlers in the prams, unruly ..."></div> </div> </div>

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