Stranger

He was short,

he was sweet, 

A stranger was he.

Every night under the street lamp,

he sang, and he played guitar.

People were mesmerized by his songs.

They danced to his tunes,

till their feet ached.

One night he was not there,

restless they became,

trying to question each other. 

Nobody knew from where he came,

nor where he went. 

Tears in their eyes,

their heart began to pine 

for a glimpse, for a sight. 

They shouted Oh! Stranger!

Where are you? 

The night passed, and the dawn shone,

But the stranger was nowhere to be seen. 

Every night folks gathered,

to hear his songs, no matter what.

One evening he appeared to say goodbye forever.

Oh! Stranger, please do not leave us, all uttered.

With teary-eyed he muttered,

My purpose here is over,

I earned for my mother and my father.

They were sick, they were tattered.

Now they both have left for the heavenly abode.

For whom shall I sing, for whom shall I earn,

I am a stranger here. 

They all hugged him, they all kissed him,

You shall stay here,

You are no more a stranger here.