The Chilly Blowing Gale
I'm standing by the splashing rocks of the roaring ocean
with a cold face as if I was standing in wintry freezing rain;
it's the middle of sunny May and the chilly blowing gale
turns me into a hand-rubbing dude very rigid and pale.
Tired of being behind a screen where people chat,
I get angry reading a revengeful, lewd comment;
social media has become a dangerous battlefield
for thugs, where opinions are sarcastically shared.
A slowly-walking elderly lady, not wrinkly and crone,
is robbed by a scrawny teen with a stylish cowboy walk;
he runs towards the beach harbored by a wall of stone;
then poses a minute to stuff something in his long sock.
The knocked-down lady yelled at the kid known as Sam;
and being nearby, I quickly ran and volunteered to help,
" Thank you, young man...I can't move my bruised leg."
I assure her it's not broken, " You'll be alright, mam! "
" Please allow me to escort you safely home. "
The frail lady nodded as we started walking and talking;
I felt her shivering hand struggling to grab mine...
grateful for the human kindness she had been seeking.
Written on 5/15/2017
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2017