Perambulator Pulling Poem by Green Peace

Born with a silver spoon in mouth
Cosy, pink, rosy, soft bedding
To remain there moving, playing, smiling to the world
A total room, an identity, an individualism of one's own

Right from the spur the heart beats
Love, affection showered with an air of dignified approbation
The kid crawls, walks, dog paddles islands
All alone and forgets to be an escort to the silvered hairs, emaciated, ailing shades........