Little Genius By The Sidewalk Poem by Zachariah isaboke

Of whom poverty calls home,
Sleeps on woven sorrows,
Wishes for heaven graceful gaze,
And dares the gods' helping hands.

He engineers his begging gait,
Under a sweetened musical voice,
And wears a long sad face,
The bait to a giving hand.

Lost into a cup of few coins,
On a city's sidewalks,
He narrates a long winding tales,
Of his unfortunate state.

He harvests without sowing,
Eats without sweating,
Drinks without tapping,
A poor little genius by the sidewalk.