Thursday, 18 December 2014

Crossing The Road




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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