My daughter is asking me
About one ringgit
For her would have one.
Quietly , I withdrew the blue note
Passing it to her and I keep stand still
with Eyes
Travelling on her foot.
She was heading straight
Not the stall of fruits
Not to the stall of drinks
Nowhere but to the bagger
who lost his leg
dirty clothes
that other's child must run away.
She came back
asking me
Why people , do not want to help
Place him good
Let him clean.
My answer,
Let your mother wage her way
Pray for her to be rich
and she could help more people.
She smile,
Mama, I love you
and proud of you
She walks with enormous hope and pride
For her understand
My thought.
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