On the streets there’s no disguise
                          from prying darting hungry eyes.
                          Unrelenting, penetrating,
                          searching scratching excavating;
                          creep and crawl towards my soul

                          Imprinted into all the ‘morrows
                          that desperate yearning glare of sorrows.
                          Grabbing, clutching, wrenching stare;
                          sits inside and festers there

                          Don’t look, don’t stay, don’t hesitate for every moment
                          that you wait
                          intensifies relentless hate,
                          that stabs into cold hearts.

                          Fingers falter, flounder…wanting, waiting
                          working endless un-repenting.

                          But my minds eye has turned to ice, my frosted soul set free.

                          Hungry eyes;
                                                  your grip has lost its vice

© Jean Burgess
Isle of Wight, 2004
in 'On Reflection'
Published by WCPP, Perth 2005

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