That drunk
There
With the dirty whiskers
Old rags
Asleep on that bench
Opposite the Sally Ann.
That woman
The old one
With the ripped
And dirty coat
Bowed legs, torn shoes
Her face hidden behind
A dirty wrinkled hand.
Me.
Here we are,
All three.
For an instant
We have met
On this corner
Of Montreal.
Why?
From this,
What have I to learn?
Now
That you have read
These words,
What have you
To learn?
Is their contribution
Now complete?
How much we have to learn!
© M. Barrett – all rights reserved
Mike Barrett
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-reflection-13/
