>>60726004
On Bombay’s shore at break of day,
He clears the junk folks throw away.
Condoms tossed, he scoffs, then grins—
"One man’s trash is where gold begins!"
Bronze in hand, he makes it shine,
"Pure gold!" he swears, "This beach is mine!"
They laugh, but still, he walks each tide—
A king of scraps, with zero pride.