<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=451340" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A tryst with fate! ! ! ! ! ! ! !</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A ten year old with chilled water bottles in hand<br>Runs as cars halt, and traffic signal turns red.<br>On a hot sultry day, says to the lady, it’s a good brand.<br>Wipes his nose with his torn shirt sleeve, as it bled.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A kind man gently took him under the shade, <br>Uncapped and poured the chilled water on his head.<br>Drop by dropp fed him with spoon some lemonade.<br>But for the Good Samaritan, would he be dead? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">In a short while, the boy came round, a lot flushed.<br>Looked at the elderly man, gratitude writ large on his face.<br>Son, rest a while, don’t go in Sun to sell water in a rush.<br>The boy lifted his hands and said, you came, its God’s grace.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Am the sole bread winner, as my father died in a cyclone.<br>Who can quarrel with what he ordains and wills…? <br>I don’t have the luxury or the time to sit and mourn, <br>Live in the past, or sit back and rest, when a wee bit ill.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Stoically stood up, and ran after the screeching cars.<br>Waving bottles in the air: please buy one for the road.<br>He should be in school, I thought watching from afar.<br>He learns all the things on the road… in no time had all sold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Mamta+Agarwal">Mamta Agarwal</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=451340" data-title="A tryst with fate! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! de Mamta Agarwal" data-description="A ten year old with chilled water bottles in hand Runs as cars halt, and traffic signal turns red. On a hot sultry day, says to the lady, it’s a good brand. Wipes his nose with his torn shirt sleeve, as it bled. A kind man gently took him under..."></div> </div> </div>

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