She’s not broken, nor defeated,
by the twists and turns
of a twig-in-stream life…
just somewhere in-between
loneliness and frustration.
She stops, but does not sit,
near a Sennelier green park bench,
clutching at her weary chest
which houses a heart,
as tender and delicate,
as a loose Valentine knot
of freshly-bruised dandelion stems.
She momentarily watches
a young girl, wearing a red beret,
feeding the manic sparrows
over by the bandstand.
Half-wincing a tired smile,
she whispers, distractedly
“I used to be like that…
now I rarely notice anything…
I’ve scurried back indoors
long before there’s a Rainbow”
A double-decker bus horn sounds
just off to the left,
snapping her back, instantly,
to Today’s Reality.
Then gripping the top wooden slat
of the bench to gather strength…
she trudges… slowly…
back towards the Grumbling City.