Alone, she desires this cluttered atmosphere-
An old woman takes off her plastic bonnet
revealing a mastery of curls
hardly disturbed by the rain.
She sits fumbling with her pocketbook
tugging it tight
between her breasts and thighs.
Eyes cast down
she is
unmistakably, fearful
Through the silent glances
I watch
masked faces, etched in disappointed frowns
poisoning her air
and yet she is unaware of being conspicuous.
She only wants the company
and does not care about the stares.
Except for the two spelling mistakes, very good, deserving of two kisses on each cheek, coming from freshly steam-cleaned lips. You can write such good stuff! H
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very well written - a slice of real. I can actually see the old woman. Well done. Warm regards, CJ