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Mark Lecuona Apr 2017
Is it to make more of the man
If he rides in the back of a jeep
Not drawing attention to himself
He thinks solely with the wind
And the sounds beneath his feet

He wondered as she walked by
Would a poor woman reject him
She didn’t smile at his gaze
She wanted more than that
He was judged by the street

He wanted to buy her a dress
Any color, with shoes to match
Would she want to wear it
Or would she only remember
She did not own a silk sheet

She smiled only to be polite
She gathered leaves for her drink
She knew how not to grind them
He told her they would be served
But the wheel that rolled was fleet

She wanted someone who knew
Only her name and a cross awaits
He couldn’t believe her calm
She did not care for attention
Their worlds could never meet

She offered to pray for him
She said empathy is not love
She had lived the real all her life
Still she admired the loud bird
Who sat humbly in an old jeep

— The End —