“I met them with my eyes
-above the clinking of the loose pebbles
coming up and hitting the bottom of my car
I see them so clearly wish I could touch them
A poor woman as neglected as a piece of rag,
she is there with her baby, lifeless in wind and heat
her eyes plead everyone for a few coins.
The brown dog watching the world goes by, its
head lying on the dusty ground, his eyes meditating
over the chaotic life humans lead.
The old fruit vendor under his aged umbrella,
His face is lined and grimy, the bright light shining up
from apples and pomegranates drilling his eyes even deeper.
How long will they, do you think, remain alone?” (WIP)