Beg Amid Beggars Poem by glorious alice

Morning eight, I am going off-
He takes his job of begging
I am forcibly slept but often peep at him
For hours his vessel is empty-
As he looks for big reap
His crooked legs draw a picture that a chariot
A police on the chariot to drive him off
He disappears for a while-again
The curved creeps towards my leg
His past, present and future are under bright
He has two big brothers-I and my fellow colleague the sun
I am bit kind with him unlike the sun
His noon goes away without food
Even food loads cross our road for stars’ pets
He tilts at me-now
I m pity with him and suggest that
Don’t beg before masked beggars-go to real ones
At evening, I come on to work as-
He is dead to the world with a hope of tomorrow’s food and
Waiting for the rude bright future
Now I implore myself
Please switch off me to let my friend slumber serenely.

A day of a beggar.