He walked up and down the empty Bazaar
that morning…
“The right spot could make or break a day of hard work…”
He thought
Finally, the aged, seasoned Ironsmith,
Sat in the old corner of the old street…
The master, carefully arranged his creation
On the walked on… grubby ground
He pulled out a used rag and polished the pans,
Arranging them carefully one after another,
He polished them again!
I admired it from far away…
He was proud of the heirloom craft,
Passed on to him from generations past…
He polished them again,
As the first customer stopped by.
A fair price for his hard worked hands
He made the first sale of the day…
He smiled,
Counting the rupees carefully…
The aged and seasoned ironsmith,
knew he will not go home empty handed
At least not today.
“I admired him from faraway…!”
“Cyrus H. Mafi Copyright 2009”
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