267

For the modest span of three city blocks

I was a guardian escort last night.
Though no one notices and no one talks,
there was one who cared under the moon light:
I saw a small child wander aimlessly
and hopelessly, it seems, from how he winced,
down those three city blocks so lifelessly,
with no guardian in sight – a lost prince:
He wore a blue Dallas Cowboys T-shirt
above grey long-sleeves, I guess for the cold;
with his languid steps,  it was clear that hurt
wracked his fertile brain, which seemed bright and bold:
We made eye contact once; I knew my place –
Show you care, and they will spit in your face.
Advertisements
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s