He was on the same spot,
Holding a small pot,
Ran his family lot,
With whatever he got.
Fifty years rolled by,
But never any passerby,
Any time felt troubled by,
This beggar lived close by.
Destiny played its role,
To snatch his daily dole,
He wasn't seen one day,
Having silently passed away,
A memorial in his place,
For his act of grace,
Was proposed out of pity,
By the gentlemen of the city.
Dug under the ground,
They, by chance, found,
A mud pot, with gold
Coins of ancient old.
Their sympathy increased,
O'er the poor deceased,
For years he stood on the gold,
With his hardship untold.
Yes, only an endless search,
Can make one to touch,
And go ahead to reach
The goal of success, as such.