Windswept soil and worry 
damper weathered wings. Decades of dust weigh heavily 
upon her shoulders, Angel watching over dandelions and 
discarded needles on the church lawn. Too early for
spring cleaning, as if nobody cares to notice.
 
She has seen better days, 
long-time caretaker of a street corner where the discarded 
and deviant line up weekdays for nutrition, attention 
or companionship; someone who will listen
when words are hard to come by.
 
Without a prayer, or hope, 
faith eludes the less fortunate, even under watchful eyes. 
It became worse during pandemic days where souls lay about
our streets like Styrofoam and cardboard containers that
once contained lunch. Now litter, useless to anyone. 
 
Heartache by the day, a dose 
of prevention one trick away. Beggars and choosers, mothers 
and losers. No one sets the table when there is nothing left to eat.
Sole angel, concrete in her ways, is always there,
for those who choose to notice.

 
© 2024 j.g.lewis