• English Poetry

    The Beggar

    I’ve seen many a time, a beggar. He sits under the old oak you know, Just down the street. He sits there with his hands spread Crying out just, just a rupee for today’s bread. He is pitiable. I wonder why he took to begging. He is not disabled, that much I know And his handicap, it never does show. Was it joblessness? I asked. But to this he just smiled. My attempts to know him were futile, And he’s been there all this while. I’ve known him for ten years now And till today I wonder, why? But my questions get lost in his smile.