Another poem, inspired by something I saw today that I just had to put into words.
R&R please!


The Quiet Desperation

There you stand by your stall.
All the fruits arranged, everything ready.
Notices proclaiming discounts and sales.
Such low prices, a sure bargain?

Is it generosity, or desperation?

You stand by the door, watching the streets.
And I sit in a car, waiting for the lights to change.
Your gaze never meets mine, you just wait for a customer.
Such pleading eyes, too proud to ask for help.

Yet I can see your desperation.

People pass you by, talking and laughing.

And you watch them go, your face is now blank.
Yet despair is obvious, as you watch the world moving.

Do you feel that it has left you behind?

Is there anything quite as sad as quiet desperation?