PHOTO COURTESY OF ANDY GREAVES AT Engage the street
I hear you coming,
following echoes of past footfall,
along your forgotten brick street,
but I have no name for you to call,
and my eyes you will not meet.
I see you coming,
but you’ll not for me shed a tear,
nor permit me to trouble thought,
with this face of orphan’s fear,
that’s by war and famine caught.
Around the corner,
you may cast a casual glance,
from the empty street of brick
saying life’s a game of chance,
indifferent to a child who’s sick.