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