The Search.

 

The Search.

 

He controls each of them meticulously.

In some he is lucky and in others no.

Around him people are all busy,  chatting buying and dumping.

No one seems to care, yes everyone has his own problems.

It's a busy world no time to waste on lunatics.

In his tattered jeans and worn out shoes he continues his search.

As people shift, his stink too much to stand.

Yet his worries seem nothing compared to theirs.

Once again his hand goes deep into one of the bins,

Ah atlast his eyes brighten up with  his trophy;

Some crumbs of left over pizza, discarded by an overfed stomach.

He sinks his teeth into the crunch, every bite munches aways his hunger.

This man is oblivious to all the gliterring around,

while lights of latest cell phones flash and people worry, his hunger is satisfied.

The dust bin is his lunch table.

 

Munteh, 23.10.2018