Speeding down the road
As trees, each more gnarled than
the next rise in quick succession –
Reaching out to their twins across
the darkness of the road.
Now, the trees hollow out
Into boxes full of goods,
Etched into their tiny niches
In childhood’s squiggly lines and curves.
Tired colours flash by,
Faces creased with worry;
Loads on backs too young
to hold them,
Eyes dark with doubts and sorrow.
Through this all we rush down the road,
Eyes oblivious to all but our own,
Our diamonds gleam in the rough
And we speak of them in deep, dark ways –
Not understanding, probably never will.
And yet, we speed down through the streets,
These sights, our minds, escape.
And this, I think, is the way of the world,
But perhaps that’s only in my eyes –
my tiny little girl eyes.