life's treasures----Writers Island

Tapping with his fingers, he was calculating mentally
He was not the paper and pencil kind of person
He did most of his computations within the confines of his mind
It exasperated those who lived with him
No chalked out plans, no clear cut goal
What had he really done in his whole lifetime
He had not amassed wealth, not the kind, which shows achievement
He had no family, no home, nothing/no one he could call his own
He only had a small tiny space where he slept
Clothes on his back and then some.
He had not had to ask any one anything
He did not need those, not from where he came from
He let people think what they wanted to
Was he wasting away his education, his share of the family fortune

Loud laughter broke his reverie. He shook his head.
He looked at those children playing happily in their break from studies
He had used his means well. Spending it the right way
He owed it to the world and its people
Making a life for those homeless kids was the best treasure one could amass