THE UNBORN SINGER

At break of the dawn
my feet set out
of the tarpaulin roof
that these fingers have earned me 
all my days.
Playing the keys amidst the crowd 
my day sets forth.
Sometimes handed a coin in reward
yet most moments empty handed.
Sometimes claps
else cheering faces.
All as if a part of my day.
No bus stop or station left unattended,
passing by streets unnoticed,
this unborn singer
keeps singing for a half-day meal. 

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