I drive Congress Street
Like a regular trail.
I see palms turned up
In a powdered-blue veil.
This woman leans forward
As if to appeal:
Lift this heavy stone
My arms are too frail.
Now she stares at the ground
With tears to conceal
In a world so uncaring
With no heart to reveal,
Going by just like me
Viewing her so surreal.
I wish I could stop,
In front of her kneel.
Push her gently back up
So her love could prevail.
With hands of a blessing
Less this minor detail.
If another has noticed
How she might feel,
I guess there is hope
For our planet to heal.
Ciera S. Louise c. July 20, 2006