Flute Player Poem by Malsawmi Jacob

at the station
sweltering heat
milling crowd
engines roaring
loudspeakers blaring.

a soft sweet sound
bringing to mind
cool mountain breezes
green pine forests
rippling brooks
youthful dreams.

i searched
wading in the crowd
and found him
stark blind
gray haired
creased care worn face
a rupee coin in a bowl
making music
on a flute

tears stung my eyes

does one who gives such delight
get so little?

i gave him a note
and listened on
dreaming of
grassy hillsides
singing winds
dancing streams
and happier times.