Credit Poem by Shruti Goswami

The sound of a falling coin woke up the boy;
A clinking sound,
One, he had hoped to hear all day long;
But luck denied.
The shops closed one by one,
For them, the day was done;
And his hadn't even begun.
Twice he was shoved away,
From a nearby shop,
Where he'd gone a begging,
For a bread.
No one, from morning till the wee hours,
Had thrown any alms, he said.
The shopkeeper turned a blind eye;
And sneered he didn't give credit even to God.
Tired, starved, and weak with fever;
All he could do, his tear dried face;
Was lying down and shiver;
Gradually slipped into a deep slumber.
Only a street dog, equally deprived;
Kept him company.
It was then, in the wee hours,
He heard a clinking sound,
The sound of a coin falling.
Quickly, he woke up and stared;
And found the coin rolling away;
Towards a nearby manhole;
Now open to let the torrential downpour pass.
He dived and saved the coin in time;
Jubilant, a new leash of life.
Dragged himself to the same shop;
And the same sneer met him.
He put forward the coin; and bought his bread.
It started pouring heavily; and he retreated
To the scanty shade he put up,
To save himself from the rain.
The dog came running in, also drenched and starved.
The boy looked at it and the bread he halved;
And gave the dog his share.
He smiled and thought;
Tis strange, for someone who's starved and rot;
I give credit, even to a dog.