Farmers' Market: The 'Poor'

My dreams do not come attached to the ideals of my people or the sacrifices of another country. Instead I am poor and mine are clinging to life the very idea of existence. Mundane flashes-- not adventurous endeavors nor flights around the world this is what richly folks do. Simply a mingler someone whose life flourishes around the bends of florescent street lights and panhandling nearby a farmers market just after sunrise. This remnant is few as these are neighbors local countrymen who stoically face the world's deviation and deprivation from coexisting by the bonds of agriculture and personality even as a beggar it is but a joyous memento to a world that no longer thrives.

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Written by

Penguin

32 / American

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