Sonnet: The Beggar's Sleep

Like wooden log, he sleeps with weary mind,
At times, he spends a sleepless night till dawn;
Insects, animalcules, his frame does find;
Giving happiness that birds will sense at morn.

Under the wide and starry night, He lies,
And sleeps in Mother Nature's lap cold earth;
Who cares if he lives or suddenly dies;
Half-naked lies his frame, naked at birth.

With heavy heart, his drunken torso sleeps,
In golden splendour of a Moonlit night;
Sometimes, within his heart, he sadly weeps,
The world of men ignore his nasty plight.
Nevertheless, Heaven is open wide,
How can the Maker ev'r a beggar chide?

by Dr. A.Celestine Raj Manohar M.D.,

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