Fruit Vendor John

Fruit vendor John was polishing his pomegranates The green piece of clean poplin was kissing warmly He once rubbed the pinkish crust with the soft cloth  Would then look at it with a mild pomegranate-care  Is he looking himself into a mirror, I was wondering Dissatisfied he would now collect a piece of muslin That too as I saw got into a purple stimulant dance Now pleased the vendor put it with its other siblings He was treating every fruit almost in the same way A floating bridge of friendship in the scented breeze Above photo, I took yesterday early in the morning At around five in the evening, I revisited his stall Found him sitting with his chin held with his palms Blank eyes face down focused at the flat pavement What might have happened meanwhile, I wondered Lips tight he moved his eyes to the empty grey kiosk All the fruits have  left me, Sir, leaving me all alone No angel in the air, a hollow world in the bouquet John lived just two houses away from my apartment Around twelve in the night a sobbing sound alerted me I stole a look through a window at the revolting scene He was beating a pretty woman seemingly his wife This morning I heard a mendicant passing by the road Singing a folk song of Bengal current through ages You have no idea my heart you have no knowledge How many persons live inside you, you have no hunch August 23, 2019 Wow Me Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter