A boy ran
Towards a van,
Holding out his hand
Full of fragrant
Jasmine flowers
Strung on a thread.
A lady beckoned
And began to haggle
Over the price.
The boy said
Five stings
For Rupees ten.
She pushed away
His hand,
The boy
Lost his balance,
And fell.
Tears welled up
In his eyes,
As he saw the wheels,
Crush his hope
Of a square meal.
The drizzle
Had turned to a shower.
The road was covered
With crushed flowers.
The boy had perhaps
Come from a distant village,
To earn an honest wage.
We spend thousands
Over what we fancy
On discount sales
Happy we have got
A bargain.
Why do we haggle
Over pennies?
Mamta Agarwal
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/jasmine-flower-seller/
