On The Streets Poem by Abinaya Saravanan

Bony dark shrunken skinned man
bent double may be with age,
wanders with a stick in hand
to earn his poor daily wage.

With a tattered cloth around his waist,
a soiled towel over his bare shoulders,
and his slippers helped with a safety pin
walks there with hope the Rag picker.

He stops at every lump of rubbish he see,
In the hill of wastes something he explores
ensuring his hunger a pair of roti
in the sack hung on his back that he stores.

The life for him swims on hope
which from other's waste makes his living.
He toils to achieve within his scope
that makes him worth of following.