"What?" he asked back.
"This whole sweeping thing" I said.
"You mean this job of mine" he exclaimed.
"Yes, why are you doing it, you don't look well, why don't you stay back home?" I asked him crossly.
"Because there I don't and here I do" he said and smiled.
"Do what?" I asked again.
"I earn" he added with pride.
"So?" I added.
"It means hope"
So said the old man who cleans the park in the morning and swept me away.
-R.
4 comments:
Very true, simple but very strong message....
that was plain beautiful.... the poem, your scribbling of it... n the story !
@Weekend-Windup: I am glad you like it:-)
@AnicA: Thank you threesome for liking all the three Anica:-)
You have a good heart. Keep it that way. Very few would stop to listen and learn from old world sweepers. The poor are the walking lessons in humility for the rich.
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