Street Vendor

a poem by Bahadur Basha Gooty

How tricky is the life of a street vendor
There are many cases where the eyes are waiting for the first sale in the morning
Is there a day when I can feed my baby twice?
How many are waiting with a thousand eyes for the weekly fair?
She earned money for the notebooks her youngest son needed
But the daughter remembered the exam fees
Even the rain fell mercilessly when business was going well