Beggar

(Phil Collins once said, Think twice its another day for you and me in paradise. This poetry is dedicated to millions of homeless all arond the world- when people talk about supercomputers, nuclear technology, double digit growth and tucked away in a desert an ice skating rink)

There she was…

Sitting in the darkest corner...

Of the shabbiest of lane.

Alone…

Possibly, waiting for the inevitable

I passed by her, everyday

Everyday

I saw a litter of coin, beside

Untouched

Though

She hardly ever asked for

Sometimes

In the scorching fire of summers

She dragged herself to a nearby tap

And as if, she punished herself

She returned back

Back to the fold of the scorch, thirsty

Sometimes

In the torrential showers of monsoon

She rushed herself to a nearby shade

And as if, she despised herself

She stepped out

Out to the fold of the pierce, wetted

Sometimes

In the eternal gloom of nights

She moved herself to away from the squalor

And as if, she loathed herself

She returned back

Back to the fold of the dark, engulfed

And one day

When I passed that corner

I did not see her

But noticed a faint foul smell

And very far away

A municipal truck going away