The tissue seller

With clean hands the tissue seller distributes,

Complemented with a gleaming smile his best attribute;

In worn out clothes he wheels his wheelchair,

Working past 9-5 with no signs of despair;

A metropolitan city where passers-by tend to overlook,

Ignoring poor old man as they walk by like duchess and duke;

Time passes by and nobody has a dollar or two to spare,

All it takes is one person to show him that there is love out there;

In scorching heat he drinks from a plastic cup,

Taking small sips and occasionally looking up;

So if the moon can linger on a morning so bright,

Why can’t the sun do the same at night?

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