Ragged he was in his tattered grey
With a real hunchback
Rattling his cup
And crying out those ubiquitous words
"One dolla!"
"One dolla!"
I beseeched my mother
And she handed over the chunky
Silver coins
Two or three
His smile
Toothless yet brilliant
Delighted me and I pled for more until
My mother
Confronted twice over with beggars
Assented
When the cup had clanked seven
Or was it nine times?
I'm not sure who was happier
Myself
Or the beggarman
And now
I look back across the years
And shake my head.
There's one born every minute
1 comment:
i haven't visited in such a long time and you've been writing and writing. ah, i must come by more often!
love this. what a picture. the sounds and imagery and emotion tells a wonderful story.
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