He
stood on the pavement
Cursing
the traffic
His
carrier bag was flapping in the wind,
How
he longed to get to the other side
But
everything went too fast for him.
Traffic
speeding by
He
mumbled and moaned
Bloody
nuisance, bloody nuisance.
He
said to himself
Here
comes a police car with sirens blaring
What
a bloody noise they make
But
I suppose they have to get to the scene of the crime.
He
stood there grumbling
He
had to make a move
But
he was too slow witted
He
depended on his walking stick.
He
walked down the road
Not
wanting to feel defeated
It
seemed safer going to the traffic lights
Than
dashing past the cars.
Sometimes
he needed help
But
he had difficulty putting it into words
Sometimes
it is hard to cry
Especially
in public.
A
part of him wanted to be tough,
But
life can appear to be as tough as nails,
He
longed to hear compassionate voices
He
felt that might help.
He
stood on the banks of the river
Looking
for a bridge to help him cross over
He
decided to put his trust in GOD
GOD’S
love would help him get across.
Frank
Bangay
November/December
09
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