Birthday
Birthday
They work the busy street corners,
asking for help.
Men with dogs, women with children,
whole families. Their hardship
written on cardboard signs:
Out of work.
Homeless.
Veteran.
She sat on the curb, cross-legged.
Sun-beaten, she was very dark.
Her matted hair framing her face
She looked down and through the sidewalk
faded jeans, a grey shirt and a melancholic expression.
On her lap she held a large bag
of what’s left of her life.
In her other hand, she held a sign.
It read simply:
"It's my birthday"
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