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The polished man
Here i sit on wooden stool,
In side street of lonely lane,
And peer at lonely fools,
Who trudge past me in the rain,
To them i give my greetings,
"How are you?" once again,
They just trudge slowly on,
With bitter glances unrestrained.
But i suffer not from them,
My heart is numb to all they say,
Happy thoughts from me do stem,
But not through them do i get paid,
Leather shoes are what i polish,
When kind man stops to lay,
A little farthing at my feet,
A little comfort in the rain.
I like this because it says no matter what the circumstance one can extend personal felt happiness in greetings. What most don't understand is even one who is doing a job they would not it is merited work,and besides doing the job they are learning of the human attitude while they sit in their silence smiling inwardly they are not shallow like the others...