Post by anirbas on Sept 19, 2006 19:29:51 GMT -6
they shuffle the concrete jungle.
shadows of themselves; this world.
the cloak of invisibility, gifted by society
wrapped tight about stooped shoulders.
proudly worn, their anonymity.
it is magic! in it, they cannot be seen.
going about a day's routine.
poking through trash like a stray cat.
hoping to find fresh, half-eaten scraps.
collecting the city's cast-offs
in battered carts, barely rolling.
sitting in doorways, dark alleys
in ones, twos, and threes.
gulping liquid utopia from
green, glass bottles of warm, cheap wine.
bought with a few quarters, nickels
and a single, bent dime.
tossed towards them as we turned our heads.
afraid to see a long-lost friend, kith or kin.
and so they remain, by society, abandoned.
-sabrina
shadows of themselves; this world.
the cloak of invisibility, gifted by society
wrapped tight about stooped shoulders.
proudly worn, their anonymity.
it is magic! in it, they cannot be seen.
going about a day's routine.
poking through trash like a stray cat.
hoping to find fresh, half-eaten scraps.
collecting the city's cast-offs
in battered carts, barely rolling.
sitting in doorways, dark alleys
in ones, twos, and threes.
gulping liquid utopia from
green, glass bottles of warm, cheap wine.
bought with a few quarters, nickels
and a single, bent dime.
tossed towards them as we turned our heads.
afraid to see a long-lost friend, kith or kin.
and so they remain, by society, abandoned.
-sabrina
