The Beggar Poem by David Lazar

A usual rush hour driving,
traffic light stopped me
midst of prosperous skylines of my wealthy city, where I'm dwelling.

A forgotten soul, withered and thirsty knocked at my car with ravenous longing. I could hear his voice,
parched for a bottle of water.
Offered a bottle and few pounds. Contented with water he looked at the money
And then at me.
Incredulous, he said ‘water is enough'
and walked away grateful,
though the money held valuable for him,
contents with what he needs, contradicted my ‘rat race' in a glittering city.