to one and all she did smilingly greet.
A homeless though of seventy years -
none ever in her saw grief or tears.
Wrinkled skin, feeble hands, bright eyes
always took passersby in surprise.
She had less to eat and more to feed;
somewhere, someone noted her deed.
No roof overhead, no place to hide
but on Almighty's path she did abide.
The cracked path of cobbled stones
was witness to her pains and groans.
Fed birds from her meagre grains -
inspite of the heat or sultry rains.
The crow, the jay or the magpie
would fly down below from the high.
The puppies, the kittens got their share;
not in skin but in doings she was fair.
Tho' no more, people do visit the street,
an angel who to everyone did lovingly treat.
Prasenjit©2022
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