Blog145:
A gray, long haired …
Woman … of advanced age
Sits in a corner
Where passersby
Run toward or move away from.
Her presence there insults, it seems
And forces them to an abrupt halt
I assume they question …
“Why is she there with that palm outstretched
Clamoring for attention?”
They give her one look …
Some avoid an eye contact with her
And resume their rhythmic stride of purpose
Rushing to or from
A destined place for the moment
Still … she sits there …
She raises her wrinkled hand … her thin, bony arm
Her sunken eyes spot for compassion
But no, not one soul gives her mind
No passerby … not one stops
Still … she sits there
Hopeful that in time …
One might note her presence,
Bend down, and give her alms!
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