Burning stove

Burning stove roars
Flames leap up
Giving short glimpses of
His wrinkled face
Eyes checking out the fries
Hands busy in preparing next one.
Every evening he drags his cart
His hair is all white
But spirit is all bright,
Pardon the rhyming for fun
But it does fit in.
People throng for his delicious goodies
One wonders what makes him toil still,
Family needs or joy of creation.
Whatever the reasons might be
He is an epitome of true strength.

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2 thoughts on “Burning stove

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