Thursday, January 12, 2012

She is sitting by a fire

She is sitting by a fire
 Poorly lit
 Of paper and trash
We pass by
 Speaking of plane crashes
And budget proposals
She remins me
Of an old woman
 Who brought me up
As a child
 It is a winter's night
With yellow lamplights
 And cars whizzing past
 And pedestrians crossing
 Did I inhabit such a life once?
Because it sends me a warm feeling
 Not repulsion, not pity
 Just this strange sense
 Of a place I once knew
 And loved and belonged to
A stage of life
Which I outgrew
And I am visiting again
And the ripple of fire
 Enveloped me
 And those glistening eyes
 Smiles, so wise
But I walk on
 I don't stop by
Perhaps she will forget me
 As another ghost walking past
 In the dead of the night
Who stopped by
 Thinking she was home.

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