He started as usual at dawn, Taking a new route to the place Where he worked so hard and long Returning late in the noon most days. He turned around as something hit His back and found that plastic ball. Picking it, he heard an eerie voice Shouting "Ball! Ball! ". Never it stalled. He smiled and picked the ball up to Throw and failed in the first attempt. The little one laughed. It was odd too. He looked weak and was so unkempt. Pitying the boy, he threw it again. This time it landed on his floor. The boy took it , saw him again, Hurled it quick and fast once more. Annoyed first, but covering it up, He picked it; threw it up again, Only to see that coming like a whip Unfurled so fast. It didn't look fine. It was then that the old woman came, And picked the ball good when he threw. Taking it, she ordered the kid home. He refused and started crying anew. Startled, he looked up, but had soon Realized that they went inside. He takes that route at dawn and noon Slows down and takes a gentle stride.
Such a lovely piece of writing esp the last one "Slows down and takes a gentle stride". Sometimes life becomes so monotonous and busy that we miss small little things in life.
