Feeding The Pigeons
I sit in the park,
My youngest running around,
Then I notice her.
Wearing men's shoes,
Everything she owns in a shopping cart,
She caught my eye because of her smile.
Her smile wasn't directed at anyone in particular,
She just sat there on the park bench,
Smiling at the pigeons.
She was making a motion with her hand,
At first I couldn't figure out what she was doing,
Then I noticed the popcorn flying from her hand.
Feeding the pigeons,
Smiling as they ate,
Smiling at the children running through the playground.
She was dirty as she could be,
But her smile seemed to be bright.
Her smile said that she was alright.
How could she smile like that?
I knew that she wouldn't have a home to sleep in.
But her smile made me think that she was happy.
I sat in disbelief that she could be so happy,
Sitting in the sunshine
And probably sharing her dinner with the pigeons.
Published on May 9, 2006 in