Sitting on one secluds, ed corner of the pedestrian pathway

With a box of meagre contents, shoe polish and brushes

Polishing feet shod in leather with vigour

Trying to find the glow of his drab life

In the radiant sheen of polished shining shoes

With earnest labour and sincerity

He calls the passers by and polishes dirty shoes

Rubbing the dust and mud with shirt cuffs

His face is smudged with black and brown streaks

Of polish used to brighten the faces of footwear

The innocence of his childhood

The boon of carefree existence, of vagrant life

Is long buried under the burden of unending responsibilities

The fire of hunger burning in the stomach’s hearth

Flares and makes him slog for measly morsel

His fingers and face streaked with soot

To brighten the days about to dawn

To make elusive dreams of insomniac eyes

Now like castles nestled in the air

To bloom into fragrant realities on the twigs of efforts…