Fate Of A Coconut Seller Poem by Cyclopseven R

On one tropical night
under the thousand eyed sky
with moonlight bright
sits a figure counting the earnings
that he got by selling the tender coconuts.

The spot gradually isolating itself
as man and woman walks faraway
like the evening birds
each head to the respective nest.

The poor man with his business
that he started at 9 and now he is 37
selling the thirst quenching tropical coconuts
for the hurrying tourists from the world around.

This earning is good to fence his daily affair
with three schooling kids and a loving wife
everyday they await for him, the sole breadwinner
to return with some goodies, before the goodnight greeting.

But, today the game plays a different twist
he made a huge fortune out of his sale
the grin tells the tale of this happy day
where all his pockets are full and tight with money.

Yet his luck took a twist too, a dangerous one
while he pack his balance goods
came three wicked men to rob his sweat
of today’s profit made.

One hit his right arm with a wood
another placed a warrior knife at his throat
while the third emptying his pockets
grabbing the profit of his sweat.

“Please don’t take all, he begged to them all,
leave me some for the stomachs back home
I have to buy them some meal to fill their hunger
before their eyelids meet each other
for another good night”

Pain spreads throughout his right arm
the arm he always swing to slice the coconut
so the tourist can quench their thirst to their hearts fill
but now the arm is crying in painful strain.

In pain he moaned louder
annoyed, the robber took a stick
and whacked him again, this time harder
his moan began to slowly dropp to whisper.

the robbers heed not his plea
in greed they robbed him of all
his blood
his sweat
his hope
his struggle,

Finally
his mobility
when his crutches too they walked away with,

In pain
his breath whispers
'where goes humanity? '