A Billionaire Bus Porter

The typical appeal and urge of the bus porter

Calling and reminding of stops big and small  

In a voice - loud, irritating, cracking reporter 

He's lin body, skinny, double bent but was tall 

He's worn-torn dress- T-shirt, holed half pant

A dirty ripped angocha wrapp'd around his neck.

Commanding all road-mates for safety-hunt

He's hung like the Albatross at the gate-check

Not kill'd but left surviving for his role

Who hid him from Him and His blessings?

Gray haired seems going to graveyard, the goal

Humanity should go for his wound dressings!

With sunken eyes, hollow cheeks, a poor soul,

 Look'd suck'd but still brisk in getting on and off.

His heart is holy as he's out of holding the whole 

He celebrates his trips as if he earns more than enough.

Shocking my eyes he shared his coins to a beggar 

Where many of us, the earners gave ignorance 

Some seem'd silent to her cry like that of an egger 

The power of the porter lies in his soul, the endurance.

Some silently call'd her cunning for her false poverty 

Some blam'd her of picking pockets and being a millionaire 

Her husband was a drunkard, now dying a death so dirty 

My soul stood to salute the porter, a real billionaire !

@ Rajneesh Kumar Mishra