Old Man on the Curb

He knocked on my door

Several times

I paid no attention

He didn’t stop

A man

Whose eyes had seen decades pass by



On my window


Asking for money


Perhaps older than my grandfather

That man


He asked me for something

Deep inside his eyes

I could see

He longed

Not money to buy cigarettes


Some dignity

That was snatched from him

In his kinder years


The light turned green

We went on

He went on


Published by: urjalakhani

Urja Lakhani is a passionate to do lister, a bibliophile and a newbie violin virtuoso. She is fascinated by Economics and Finance which is just a better way of saying that she loves money and wants to make an obscene amount of it. The best way to irk her would be to tell her that she can’t do something because she is a girl, but then again she has probably done it already.

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