Zimbabwean Crippled Beggar
Sprawling was he in the roasting sun outside an Indian store.
Shaking and jingling coins in his begging bowl hoping to receive more;
Just as his hunger grew terrible in his begging tummy,
Some rich man gave him a titbit of pizza, it tasted richly yummy.
Though the reek of his shoes was yay stuffy, his raiment soberly tattered –
And his body smelt malodorous but none of that to him ever mattered.
He’d grin wide his pitch yellow teeth and germ-favoured gums, opening his creased hands seeking alms;
And he’d do it over and over and over again, with sweat tumbling from ‘twixt his crying palms.
He’d sing painful songs of elegy, with grime of perspiration and muck on his face;
Weeping solemnly to everyone that passed by the town’s market place –
Alas! His tears recalled where the coins had fled, the coins of pledge of the piteous beggar;
The begging bowl of his coins was grabbed away by a snatcher, a very heartless drabber.
Oh poor crippled Zimbabwean Beggar, his weeping was all in vain,
Cos that rich man was never gonna feed him, again.
Copyright © Choene Alley Semenya | Year Posted 2015
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