riding in comfort
the seat-belt tucked in
waiting for the lights
to finally turn green
the car behind honks
meaningless, as in
the traffic wouldn't budge
until the lights turn green
you notice the counter
the seconds diminishing
a child walks up to you
before the lights turn green
he knocks at the window
selling pens, too keen
you turn your gaze away
when will the lights turn green
he pleads on and on
hoping to be seen
but poverty is invisible
neither red, nor green
frustrated by his nagging
you finally give in
you pull out your wallet
and the lights turn green
your dilemma is over
no, that boy had never been
you press down the accelerator
pleased, the lights are now green
the boy walks back to pavement
in hunger, thin and lean
the traffic lights too disobey
for him, they never turn green
I am participating in National Poetry Writing Month 2019. 30 Poems in 30 Days is the target.
The Day 3 Prompt for #NaPoWriMo is to write a piece that involves a story or action that unfolds over an appreciable length of time. I have attempted narrating a chain of events that occur in a short span of a minute, but even the minutes turn slower here. Time, after all, is relative. A minute might seem too soon when it's inviting. Again, it could trudge with lots of efforts when we really wish it to fly away faster.
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Impressive expression. Very poignant. I too watch many street Hawkers in desperation trying to sell goods.
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