The Rich Vagabond

Exhausted, the tiny vagabond slumps
on the bench in the park, as night falls.
With the bird calls
at dawn the sun comes out of its lair
After a bout with a dark cloud
And rides proud .
Untangles the vagabond’s tangled hair
With a hundred and one golden fingers
And near his sunken face lingers
Smiling indulgently like a mother fond
Tightly embracing the vagabond
with a thousand golden arms.

With two fistfuls of dreams close to his chest
the vagabond sleeps
under sun’s Midas touch his fists turn to gold.
The shimmering air is incandescent
under the blazing sky
And the flowers on a high.
The sun continues to drench him in gold
from the blue canopy above.
The homeless vagabond rich
Now others’ tries to enrich
His sunny smile beguiles
A hibiscus lazing away.
Smothering its yawn
In the verdant lawn
the lazy flower with his sunny power
jumps into the maelstrom of another day
And is reborn.

2 thoughts on “The Rich Vagabond

  1. Pete Mullen

    Santosh, you have a talent for making what could be considered mundane by some, into an imaginative story illustrating some profound philosophical thought. This piece demonstrating that the glories of nature are enjoyed by both rich and poor who likewise benefit. Thanks, Santosh!


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *