Ripples
Down the dusty road,
in tattered rags,
He came,
weary,
wilted,
and
withered.
Body bent with age,
bones sticking out of the flabby skin,
with a tremor
running down his limbs.
With eyes reflecting hope,
he waited at my doorstep.
No words came out from pursed lips
but,
in mute language
begged for alms,
hopeful he would never be betrayed
I held his shriveled hand,
helped him ascend the steps.
Like a child obeying it’s Elder,
he sat on a chair in the patio.
The sumptuous fare, served before,
he surveyed with eyes
bulging out in utter disbelief,
and greedily devoured
every bit of morsel.
A rare gleam lighted up his face.
With hands folded in benison
he stood up and silently took leave.
I watched him stumble
along the country track
and fade away in the distance.
Ripples of joy stirred my mind
in ever widening circles
as, a pebble idly tossed
causes ripples in still waters
over a random act of kindness
idly tossed !
Placed First in Strand's Poetry Contest
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