Poets of TCP: Ananya Singhal: The Story Within

The newspaper pages were flying around,

the dirty plastic cups rolling here and there,

the dried leaves and flowers scattered everywhere,

The long dirty nails gripped to the broom,

pushing the garbage to their inevitable doom.

his shirt was worn out, his face scarred

his hair was long, his body slender

unlike the others his eyes were tender.

His eyebrows were arched, his forehead wrinkled,

with his lips set firmly, he concentrated on his job.

He stands up even though he is pushed down

by inequality,

and every day he comes back to do his job

with the same ecstasy.

Some kids at school call him Mr. broom-man,

some adults call him the sweeper.

They say they can make out his story from his eyes,

but they don't know that it lies deeper.

~Ananya Singhal