sometimes she walks
along highway 41
walks like she's got no
particular place to be
what once made her strong
now just something heavy
usually she sits
on a bucket or an old
folding chair in the grass
her back straight
chin high
steel shot through
her frizzy hair
and stones in her mouth
but her eyes burn
always watching
just above the horizon
to the east
waiting hard
~
3 comments:
I love the descriptions in this!
This is so sad.
I have met people (old ladies mostly) who are locked into a state of just waiting - very sad!
David
This is a beautiful poem. I feel like I'm right there with her walking along the highway.
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