Brad Symonds

by Brad Symonds - Not entered

I Drive


I drive down the same street everyday
The faces are always there
What are they doing
Where are they going
I pass and gaze into them
I see nothing
They just stand there
Watching me drive by

I drive down the same street everyday
A solemn wave from an old women
Her face weathered 
Her hand callused from the years
She has no home
The street is her world

I drive down the same street everyday
On my way to civilization
She is just a passing glimpse to me
I stop at the traffic light
I glance at her
I see her blank look

I drive down the same street everyday
How does this happen
Has she lost hope
Why am I driving, going places
While she goes nowhere

I drive down the same street everyday
She may only travel 50 feet in a week
In a day when I go 50 miles 
The sidewalk is her home
She will know nothing else

I drive down the same street everyday
The women is not there
I wonder what happened to her
Do I really care
Tomorrow another women will be there

Reason for writing:

    Inspired by MK    

Birth sign: Not entered
Date created: 1997-04-24 03:36:20
Last updated: 2021-03-03 14:39:24
Poem ID: 46951

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