Author: Shukri Elias

Poetry

That Poor Boy Who Had It All

I remember the days When I was young and full of life, Looking forward to early mornings. I used to count them, count the days waiting patiently— Asking my mother, in a soft, innocent voice, “Mom, when will Eid come?” And she’d smile and say, “Honey, be patient.” Then I’d ask her again— The same question I asked every single Eid: “Are we going to buy new clothes like so-and-so?” She’d always say, “Yes, of course. You’ll have new clothes for Eid.” She never really kept that promise. But somehow, I always felt like I had new clothes on every…

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