Hope She Comes Back Soon Poem by Not Long Left

Street walking just as evening pulls
the curtaining clouds apart and a
greyness spills itself onto the sky.
I am searching for hope, looking into
everyones eyes looking for a flicker
of humanity. They are all hurried,
Dinners are sitting on tables, Telly's
are growing inpatient. Someone
pushes someone down the street
the wheels on the wheelchair are
decorated in brightly coloured spokes
I hear them even when they stop.
A cloud to the left of my hanging head
seperates into two and a little more
grey fills the void. There is a kite it
is tangled on the wires above me,
I wonder if the boy cried and was then
calmed by the promise of more.
The trees acknowledge me, they know
all about solitude, one of them has just
been pissed on, its bark sprayed and
stinking. I approach the playground
there is no sound of little feet beating
on the floor. I can not find hope, she
is on a train somewhere looking out
the window, losing herself in the blurs
of the outside world. There is only so
much she can take, since I was a child
I have always wanted more.