A bunch of twenty

Twenty for a bunch
Neither more nor less
Dangling thin arms
Where the bouquet rests

Bare feet on the roads
Skin scorched under sunrays
Dry lips, moist eyes - he hounds
Every single car on the way

Knocking on windows
Gestures shining out the need
Careless wave of a hand from the other side
Shining of the diamonds and beads

Eyes searching for that single soul
Who would buy his flowers away
Tomorrow is still to come
If only “today” could pass the day

Signals move the traffic
For him - also his life
Every single stop that the traffic makes
Are flickers of hope ripe

Awaiting the next lot to stop
That a red signal brings him some green
Been two days since the little one
Had some rice and water clean


Every day as I go about carrying out the everyday rituals of my life, I come across these cherubians on the roads, selling small bunches of flowers. Nice fresh flowers, wrapped in a thin cellophane paper. Not very intricately designed, but a bunch of joy none the less. They are red and orange and white or a milange. Everyday a new shade. But the only shade that remains unchanged across all days is the shade of struggle and misery in those innocent eyes.I buy a bunch when ever I get a chance. Not necesarrily will that note bring a massive change in that little one's life. But yes, it does give me a reason to smile when I see it reflect in his happy eyes. That can be called my selfish motive. Humans are selfish. Aren't they?