Saturday 6 February 2016

A Homeless Wanderer

A dirty beg on his shoulder
Torn clothes on his body
An old stick in his one hand
Disguise like a moody

Staggering like a drunkard
Moving in the street in hope
Calling in a vibrating voice
Expecting something to eat

Nights pass in his cold eyes
Days in deep despondence
No one seems for him to rise
Nothing is there to hold

Days rise for all with hope
For him, his sun always sets
Darkness seems as a friend
Holding him as a rat in a trap

Days come,days go regularly
His conditions go worsen
His shoulder leaves him fully
Stick falls down from his hand

He falls down on the ground
In the lap of his mother land
To say goodbye to this world
Makes his way to the heaven

Entry may be different here
But exit is same to move on
Leaving behind all that stored
Naked came and thus to go

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