A Poor Womans Lot
Originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1
Near the stairs of
the Bandra over bridge
tired hungry overwrought
She has her begging spot
Touching moving legs
That won’t halt
With her spindle like hands
One or two get caught
A few coins
A battle well fought
Day after day
The same piteous litany
Her eternal rot
A poor woman’s lot
That the god who created her
Also forgot
a lesson in hardship
an empty stomach taught
