Camelot

Camelot

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

My Umbrella



Walking the city streets
The stuttering whisper
Of spirits past
Feel heavenly
In the smothering heat

Humanity and its refuse
Reach my senses
Crinkling my nose
As I continue on
My journey

The children
Used to ask me
For money
But I'm now
Part of the scenery
They no longer see
The foreigner
But a moving feature
In the landscape

"Good morning mum."
A vendor walks by
Carrying metal containers
Swinging on bamboo
Over his shoulder
What they contain
I have no clue
Steamed corn,
Roasted peanuts...
Maybe

I pass the church
I can hear the prayers
Of a hundred sinners
I wave to the security guard
Standing sentinel
Who offered me a chair
One hot day
Not too long ago

Now comes the most
Perilous part of my walk
The roundabout
Cars coming from
Every direction

On this day
My umbrella
Is my hero


Copyright © Allene Angelica 2014