Looking for a cab after a tiring day
I'm famished and fatigued.
There is a blanket on the road
Or a bundle of brown clothes.
Ha! It breathes and twists
A crowd is attracted
What's that? Pick it up.
The blanket is a child
Smeared in blood
Its face ashen white,
Frozen gaze, eyes wide with fright,
A silent plea, a whispered plight.
No mother near, no gentle hand,
Just asphalt cold, a barren land.
The cab forgotten, hunger gone,
A different ache for what's been done.
A life in tatters, fragile, small,
A city's shame, a silent call.
The crowd disperses, whispers fade,
Another story, quickly made.
But in my mind, the image stays,
Of innocence lost in hazy days.
The child's white face, a haunting dream,
A broken world, it would seem.