Cars on the high-way
ends a cold winters day.
Only home the place to be,
a red light halted me.

From the corner of my eye,
through the window I spy
Slowly he enters my zone,
his face molded in stone.

His lips utters no sound,
my window stays unwound.
The eyes, tired with dope,
begging bravely in hope.

The light changed to green,
cars in motion to be seen
He stays in the cold and rain,
with his hunger and pain.

I get to bed that night,
no sleep for me in sight.
His eyes still in my mind.
Is this today�s mankind?

Copyright � Maria Jacobs 2001
All Rights Reserved