She lies at the Corner of the street,
The passbyers see her and nod their heads,
A sign of sympathy,
But,
If the same number,
The same number of the nodding heads,
could think a bit about her,
Maybe
She wouldn't be laying there.
She eats her food from the garbages ,
Her neighbours point their fingers towards her,
A sign of puzzlement,
But,
If the same number,
The same number pointing beings,
Could unfold their fingers for her,
Maybe,
She wouldn't be eating from there.
She finally dies,
They hear about her death,so they come to her funeral, they scatter roses,
A sign of goodbye for good.
But,
If the same number of people scattering roses,
Could extend their hands a little bit longer
when she was alive,
Maybe,
She wouldn't die that mercilessly.
©
H