Hawking to survive the storms of life

Today you saw me in havy traffic on street

Tomorrow I will be at the Lorry Station

I sell things of everyday life

The bell in my hand but don't be too quick to judge,

Don't think am one of those who turn a brind eye on education,

I too have dreams strike on me like zebras in the wild

Pardon me if my dress has the stain of dirt and perspiration

That's is the evidence of a struggle against life

I am a hawker.

I keep my stuffs open so you can take a glance

Even though flies keep perching on my fruits and toffees

School children wait from dawn to dusk for my arrival with their money in pocket.

Pardon me if I overcharge my young and innocent customers mostly who are in a moving wheel and ignorant of the price

I sell stale items to them.

Some call us men along the road

I sell my things on top of my voice

I come to the lorry station in the burning heat of the sun,this is what life had installed for me, and I hawk to survive

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