Got my shoe fixed today. Scribbled this in my notebook just observing the cobbler mending my shoe. So I don’t need to get me a new one!

Cobbler on the streets,
How much does he make?
To put food on the table,
To make ends meat?

Cobbler on the streets,
What’s there in his mind?
Having a skill,
But waiting on borrowed time.

Cobbler on the streets,
Meets a lot of people,
Not for the luxury of communication,
But for meeting a need.

Cobbler on the streets,
Does he dream of freedom?
Is his work his passion?
Or just suffering life’s treason?

Cobbler on the streets,
Now I sit at his feet,
Maybe we share a common reason,
Waiting for our art to yield in season.

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