• 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.