"The Picture"

You hold years of anger,
in deeply darkened eyes,
glazed, no signs of renewal.

The circles surround  them,
like dark pools of mud,
on a deeply troubled face.

You dream like a child,
you dream like a small girl,
with eyes on a pony.

Dreaming girl, you whisper my name,
On a dark street, with homeless faces staring back,
you carry the anger on your shoulders.

Sighing, I wipe a tear for you,
for me and my past,
And slowly I put away the picture once again.