No Story but a Story-line only.

No Story but a Story-line only.
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Being a born nomad, 
It was / is my lot to keep moving. 
Making no place my permanent residence.
Some good kind men arranged,
Accommodation for me always.
I think they too are born nomads,
Yet I never asked them.
Providence took me out of the last one.
And I was left on dry parched lands.
Reached at the banks of a river.
Was passing days with bare needs,
That were barely met / fulfilled.
Till a big snake pushed me out,
From that comfortable place.
Kept wandering in the wild,
Till all life in me was,
Squeezed out from me.
In those moments,
That looked like the end,
I Called the only friend.
And within next few minutes,
An ambulance arrived from nowhere.
A Hospital sprung up in the near.
And half-live half-dead,
I was taken over there.
They asked me who was with me?
I said : No one !
They completed their formalities.
And though a man was there,
Accompanying me.
He was not a relative.
The Director of the Big Hospital,
Sat by my side,
Talking a lot and taking care.
After a week I was relieved.
They neither claimed,
Nor charged a single rupee,
And I learnt later,
No one paid my fees!
The nomad was back onto,
His endless path that is life!
Oh yes!
Miracles do happen.