On the over-occupied

Pale pavements,

Burdened by eternal

Financial predicament,

Some eloped and

Settled for the least

Unwillingly,

While some were

Abandoned and

Cruelly discarded

By their kin,

Though they hadn’t

Committed any sin.

 

A kid followed me

Down the bustling street,

And although he

Wasn’t well-groomed,

Tidy or neat,

He spoke well;

Seemed like he

Just wanted

Something to eat.

 

I handed him

My cottage-cheese roll,

And he cut it into three,

Said he was saving

It for his family

Who were scattered

Around the

Happening street,

Trying to make

Ends meet;

 

Through pleading tones

And missing bones,

They stalled and

Strolled around

Beyond wonted

Comfort zone.

 

Every contributor

And passer-by

Had one question

In mind,

Answers to which

They never bothered

To find.

 

How are beggars made?

How do they begin to fade?