Indian Beggar sitting on the street

A Beggar’s Delight – Poem

There is a beggar,
His hair is white.
His eyes are tired
Like they never saw the light!

He lives under the sun,
And he dwells under the bridge
He sleeps on the footpath
In summer he burns and in winters, he does freeze!

One day, I went near him
I asked him if he needed any help
He was a beggar, I forgot
He asked for the money and the food on the shelf!

I wondered if he would want any job
And some safe place to live
But he was where he loved to be
Contended! I couldn’t believe!

That was his job
To ask each passerby for some money
And under the bridge was his abode
Having huge kitchen, warm bedroom and a lovely balcony!

Well, I had no words, sweet or bitter
As I try not to judge, though my choices differ.
But it was indeed wonderful for him to be more care-free
Than millions of rich people, who have everything better

I see him now, every other day
But there is a smile on my face, I have no say.
Sometimes I spare him a coin or pack him the leftover
And put it in his bowl with a gentle negligent sway!

True – life is a quest, for some life is rough!
Whatever we hoard, is it ever enough?
There is no reason to frown, no reason to stress out
Thank the almighty, we don’t beg as we can buy!

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