Page 24 - Contrast1985v27

WINTER WASTELAND

The wintry winds blow, cold and strong.
Inside a fire burns for warmth: Long
Nights were often passed in this way,
Holding one another close. Stay,
Wait for the morning sun to rise ..
To clear away the night's surprise.

The dark, drawn curtains slowly part
As two women limp to the mart,
Chattering through broken teeth, words
Shatter the early morning's chords.
A man, beating his cold hands, stares
Unaware of these women's cares.

A match is scraped gently across
The lid. It flares, witless to loss.
The woman draws a deep, full breath
Of cloudy smoke, immune to death:
For she has made his aquaintance
In a different circumstance.

The man sits on a park bench,
Barely noticing the foul stench.
Odors come from cluttered gutters.
A pigeon lands close, but flutters
Away, searching for a new roost,
Showing the neglect of much abuse.

Yesterday the cold earth swallowed
The battered remains, so hollowed
From the blast that little remained
To bury. The service was strained.
Mourners smiling through tearing eyes,
Mumbling half-truths, rather than lies.

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