Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!

queen of the streets

de man, he don't look at me no more, as
he casts a stone-cold glare into distant sky
from where he sits on that golden throne
he doesn't see 'neath my coats of colors
that ragged, patched flickering soul
a resigned heart who waits
"will he ever call me home?"

silent drift in the city that weeps
to push a grocery cart down dark streets
the painful shuffle in too large shoes
tied with broken strings, stuffed with old news
tufting out of crazy holes
ratted hair covered with a old knitted hat
forsaken dreams etched on my tired face
a silent fall from grace
by the fact that I grew old and nobody knows
I was once a daughter, mother, lover
a keeper of dreams that used to sing
now crowned queen of the unspoken
humming under breath, not heard
head nodding time, keeping time
in patient wait on the cold park bench
'till the homeless shelter opens
fingers temple, mumble words
hands that tremble in despair
cast bread to the pigeons
fluttering around weary feet
"who will throw crumbs at me?"

Written by Wordancer


Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge