The Beggars at Sango Market
The Beggars at Sango Market by Zoe
On weekdays, I never sight see
For I was always weary
From the long ride home.
But on weekends,
My eyes like an eagle’s
Darts left and right
Searching for an interesting sight.
On that Saturday at the market,
My roaming eyes
Rested on the beggars,
Sited on the muddy floor beside the pepper sellers,
Who seemed to detest their presence
For they constantly yelled at them.
I watched the beggars,
Heads wrapped in white clothes
And for a moment,
They looked like three wise men,
Carrying bowls of goods
That are never sold but paid for.
Oh! They sell prayers too
Even before you buy them.
Their clothes appeared to be
Smeared with mud,
And I wondered if their hands
Ached from holding their palms for so long.
I wondered if their backs
Hurt from staying in a rigid position for hours.
After dropping a penny in their bowls,
I went home thinking
Of the beggars at Sango Market.
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