Walking on one foot isn't quite the same,
An old man without a name.
His ragged mane gray,
Head as high as you might say.
Crawled as he would everyday,
Cross the street to collect his pay.
What did he got paid for?
He won't say.
A man of honor,
Wouldn't let you help.
That would mean that he was less.
He said.
A box full of love,
He ate at the bus stand.
A sense of satisfaction,
Was never too far behind.
For that day,
I learnt a lesson from the man.
That I would never forget,
For all my life
