A Strange Man. Poem by vaibhav vizard

I saw a man,
little pale and,
completely horrified.
As if some horrid sight he confronted.
He was gasping,
though he was sitting.
His eyes continuously,
scribbling around,
continuously searching for someone, perhaps.
that criss-cross wrinkles,
which he wears on his face,
was ample to elaborate him.
That continuous perspiration
in december, it haunts.
Adding to his plight,
his shivering hands,
almost ceased to lift.
Sitting beneath the tree,
he was shadow less.
Still I was musing on him,
whence something made me,
speechless and spellbound.
My eyes revolted to such
heart wrenching sight.
That very man received,
punches for selling bad bananas.
A street hawker,
thrashed badly with complete peace,
with complete approval of society,
may be it was,
an entertainment,
but for me,
it was horrible.
Strangeness of that man,
touched zenith when,
he cajoled his baby,
with lullabies along,
with blood coming out of his mouth.
May he failed,
to meet his ends,
may he was thrashed,
for selling bad bananas,
but his genuinity,
as a father,
maintained the legacy.