Thursday, October 18, 2012

Faces in the Crowd




As I sat drinking iced coffee I watched the passers-by,
With a critical and, shall we say, a sharp sardonic eye.
Malcolm was stuck in a man-style shop, seeking a 'crimping' tool,
And he takes his time about such things, I can tell you, as a rule!
So I thought I'd play a private game, related to 'I Spy.'
As I watched the throng of variegated people passing by.
'Would I swap with you....or you....or you....or you?' I pondered,
As they scuttled, drifted, hung-around or just, without aim, wandered.
Here was one so old and bent by comparison I felt youthful!
And here was one all angular; I like 'plump', to be truthful!
Here was one weighed down with cares, her mouth a downward arc.
Here was one who probably earned her living after dark!
Here was a schoolgirl, blithe and gay, with all her life before her;
With all those examinations; I was certain they would bore her.
Here was a mother and screaming kids! I couldn't live that again!
And here was a suffering creature, hobbling in great pain.
I'm an ordinary woman, approaching the end of life;
An ordinary mother and an ordinary wife.
And I sometimes feel downhearted when I think I've been deceived,
Reaching this stage with almost nothing actually achieved.
But a little self-analysis works wonders I have found,
So, if ever you feel depressed, simply look around.


The drifting down of red and gold
Before the coming of the cold;
The old barn set amongst the corn,
In days before we all were born;
The rustic, rural charming scene
Reminding us of what has been.......
All these in some bucolic haze,
Reminding us of 'better' days,
When life was true and safe and gentle
And human life was elemental.
We can view this scene and sigh
Because such life has gone on by.
But I prefer to take the view
That there is much hope in the new.
The jagged spears of windmill sails
With all that 'renewable' entails,
To me are signs of great endeavour,
Proving that mankind is clever.
Look back! Our skies are brighter, clearer
Than they were in that much earlier era
When there were factories over the hill
Spewing filth to make men ill.
There's every chance that we will cope.
This windmill is a sign of hope.

No comments: