A Lonely Woman and a River

A Lonely Woman and a River By Muhammad Nasrullah Khan Uptown. Downtown. All around. Swirls of people Touched by the kiss of absurdity. Flesh creating more flesh. A city grown in tumor ridden tentacles. Jumbled steel, glass, concrete and asphalt Built up in rows of skyscrapers. Whose long, jagged teeth bite holes through the heavens. Streets flow with cars and people Like rivers bent into sharp angles. Bulging subway vehicles, Merge from the city's cold metallic underbelly. A woman, dwarfed by giant towers, paces a bridge, Her shoulders bent with the burden of nit-picked dreams. She bites a lip as winter nips her cheeks. Humming low and anxious, Purse clutched to her chest, She's lost youth, beauty and happiness to the ravages of time. The sour pavement beneath her feet does not care. Nor does the world. The stars are deaf to her fretful tune. The woman gazes the indifferent moon between the clouds, And knows it does not care either. Her eyes see the years of her past. And she becomes an unnoticed splash in the river A fish jumps near as ripples fade along the surface. Blackout. Quiet water lulls her desires. She is no longer present. The stars move on. Death thirsts for blood anew. People continue to swirl. Dead leaves that scurry in circles.