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'Street folk' by Jennifer O'Neill Pickering
It is not the cigar that's killing me,
Neither the smell of rubber on road
Nor the abhorrent scent of fellow beggars' breath,
Not even the past me walking past me
When my skin was fair and rid of street fumes,
When my hair were plenty and caps hid nothing,
When a stick was not an extended appendage
When innocence of eyes were still intact
It was a day as dark as nowadays
As I walked under fireflies of street lamps,
When the dirty windows had no light to deflect
'It' happened in an unexpected way
Darkness of the streets seeped into my life
Like the essence of tea leaves into tea
And my sorrowful eyes have seen the time move on,
But the poverty of soul and body remains
It is not the cigar that's killing me
It's the curable disease left uncured
And I'm awoken from my hairy-fair-y dream
Into the real nightmare where death awaits my last breath
~Ajay
26/8/17
