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