The
old Indian man
He
walks on the street
Every
day he will
In
the light or at night
He
walks on measured steps
Most
of the time barefoot
With
his unkempt disposition
Walking
with his long stick
Sometimes
a motorist gives him a lift
To
the town where he will be heading
There
he will find his toddy shop
There
he will stay for quite a while
Sometimes
looking at him
Tilting
to a side like tower of Telok Intan
Supported
by his walking stick
He
takes his slow walk
Rumours
say he doesn't want aids
Maybe
a wheel chair will suit him good
He
refuses to accept his fate
He
can walk so what the fuss?
He
still walks
The
measured steps of a foot apart
To
the town to pay his visit
The
toddy shop seems the way
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