Down To Streets Poem by Geetha Jayakumar

Dressed in an old rags
An old man in the mid of sixties
Greyish white hair which fell across his face
Unclean and tangled hair.
Big bearded, looks like
He had not seen razor for many days
Greyish Moustache unevenly spread fall on his lips.
One torn and dirty long bag hung on his shoulder.
He wore one blackish coat worn out from many sides
His pocket hung loose outside.
His pants torn and worn out.
Very old shoes fully worn out from front
And the torn socks visible.

Morning he comes begging
Murmuring something in english
It seemed that he was not in his senses.
People were too afraid to go near him.
Keeps on talking to self and to the passersby.

Actually, he was from well off family.
Well educated and retired from a good position.
Initial days were good with family of three sons and wife.
Followed by wife's death
his sons took all his possessions
And made him penniless.

Being left with no choice
Left his own house
As his sons treated him badly
Started sleeping in street.

Years passed by, he was not in his senses.
He ate quietly what ever people gave.

Once on a heavy rainy day
He was lying beside one shop.
But on third day, he was found lying dead.
Ambulance came and took away his body.

Journey from own house down to streets.....

©ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY GEETHA JAYAKUMAR 2014
© 2014.

Geetha Jayakumar.