The Man Who Sold Flowers...

I see him daily,

On the busy main street,

amidst cars, buses and rickshaws,

He sells flowers in the heat.

He goes to each one,

Each window he knocks,

each person he asks,

whether they'll pay him for what he'll remove from his box.

One day he came up to my car window,

and banged the glass hard,

it irritated me no end,

but I lowered the glass,

and let off my guard!

He shakes his box vigorously,

and shows me a rose,

I shake my head and ask for something else,

he takes out something that almost killed my nose!

I have no choice,

So I settle for the rose,

he quoted am awful cost,

I give a "lessen it or get-out" kind of pose!

We negotiate and settle for 20 bucks,

closing my window after paying,

I get ready to start my car,

I turn around and give him a final glance, whose figure is now retreating...

I wonder if he'll be like that 

all his life,

isn't selling flowers on the road,

full of struggle and strife???

He looked happy when he came to me,

but will he be happy always?

Destiny has something for everyone,

so I needn't bother anyways.

He'll sell lights in the night,

mangoes in May,

And umbrellas in monsoon,

But shall he always be happy and gay?

He'd be managing to feed his family,

and also collect funds for the future,

but does he have anything else to do,

at least nothing that I can picture!

He may do what he may,

sell mangoes or melons or mowers,

for me he shall always be;

The man who sold flowers!!!

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