From a pavement bistro, enjoying an alcove espresso and jam scone
After fresh rains, scenic smiles yet the road is of red sand
Young children play ball in park adjacent, some teen skaters pass by
Skirt-tugger hangs on for dear life, while she perambulates the baby.

The little, old man places with care, two stones behind his back wheels
His car stuck on the muddy, wet road
A small, slow push by stranger passing; it rolls easily from soft, red ruts
A wave of thanks, a friendly smile and off he goes.

Anna steps in ruddy hope, septuagenarian in jaunty hat and Sunday best
Ready to meet the one of a lifetime, widow of a decade
Correspondence long-time with namaste-man, final reward
Ribcage busy, beat in mouth, eyes flit eagerly, hearty salutes.

But nobody knows that someone is being watched,
From across the distance of the park, a clutch of strangers
Their beady eyes, hooded expressions, they wait
Fate is sealed when car drives by; irrevocably red.




S T, 11 May 2013