Passing By The Stalls... Poem by RIC BASTASA

As i pass by the stalls
along the dirty streets of the town
after the fiesta
when all the vendors have gone
selling the same wares to
another town
i feel the sadness of the constancy
of departures
i am comforted by the sense that time
passes us by
that there is nothing permanent in all days
sorrows and happy moments
and then i meet a little child
without a mother holding her hand
perhaps lost
and surely so neglected
and then i see this white dog
crossing the street
and then a big truck comes
over speeding
and then i see another element of time
the way it sometimes
snatches life
from a mere dog but there is this feeling
that strikes me
as though the little child is still there
as though the street is finally cleaned
as though i am
no longer alone
and lost
that res gestae speaks much
on such a dying declaration.