she's about to lingah
directing traffic with her fingah,
she crosses the black asphalt,
hoping she's not at fault,
with eyes open wide,
surely there is no pride,
with one coat on her back,
she doesn't look back,
holes in her shoes,
there is no new news,
she scuffles along,
watching traffic move on,
windows uptight,
there sheds no light,
for from within, a man with a grin,
feeling so nifty, he full of fifties,
speeding on by, she begins to cry.........
No comments:
Post a Comment