Invisible Poem by Carolyn Brunelle
Invisible
Crumpled in a heap
smelling of stale cigarettes, booze and
who knows how many worn out yesterdays,
he naps on the stoop
to take advantage of sun's warmth.
She brushes through the door,
camera in hand
quickly orders a sandwich;
moves on to capture more
village beauty while there is light.
Two different worlds
within the same world
close enough to touch, yet
invisible to one another.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/28/2026 4:17:00 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
