Monday, February 13, 2012

XIII: Old woman at the bus stop

Old woman at the bus stop
sitting sullen and alone,
what gloomy destinations
overwhelm the horizons
of such barren bleary eyes?

In a flimsy weather-worn coat,
oversized on your frail frame,
and with a dirty blue knit cap
pulled down too far
over your stringy grey hair,
you crane your thin neck out,
searching the oncoming traffic
in silent anticipation,
hoping for the hissing bus,
while tightly gripping
the dingy duffle bag
sitting at your weary feet.

Disappointed, you are then
back to vacantly watching
the ceaseless boisterous traffic
on Broadway at noontime,
passing you by like a river,
rumbling and rushing away.

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