A homeless woman in grey attire,
Decaying under the shawl of sunlight.
Crying for attention from the passengers,
Who are busy catching breaths, creating memories.
They walk in boots on the green grass.
Some dried leaves sit in a glowing garden nearby,
They smell pleasant as the air blows around.
Whole scene looks like an accidental hiccup,
Coupled with an horrifying silence that follows.
She mutters some words and few unknown phrases,
Quick and lonely whispers vapor towards the sky.
I look through the tinted window,
I sit in comforting half light.
“Why doesn’t that woman have a name?”
“Why don’t people greet her enough?”
I don’t get any answers.
Moments later, I ask myself —
“What have you done for her?”
Now, I don’t want any answers.
