A Bitter Brew
Outside, there is a small trail
and six steps
separating me from those that pass on by,
Impossible, to hide, behind my ruby house coat
and synthetic flavoured...
bitterly savoured, morning coffee
An old man walks by,
paced, in slow - rhythmic strides
in order to balance three bags
his aluminum collection
Toes, emerging from the tips of his tattered shoes,
As he spies me
we engage in observations
He is courteous, as he desists,
lowers, his head in his travels,
continues to descend down the hill
around the corner of my house,
heat scorching
This morning,
all I can hope for
Is that he does not rip my garbage apart.
Copyright © Angie Mae | Year Posted 2006
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