by Glenn Brigaldino

Created on: August 03, 2008

Paint is off.....

Harvest failed three seasons in a row,
Having once seen the big city lights,
They had to take the urban plunge
Set themselves up, at first it would be tight.

He stumbled upon this guy, settled down on the pavement,
next to the donut store with seating for patrons only;
when he asked him if he'd like a tea or coffee,
a simple no' was uttered, charity never beats spare change.

National capital, parades, flags and the usual speeches;
the morning rises, pot holes there to greet it, the night-time,
no longer concealing the restless rust.
Four years now in the shanties, village square life,
just a fond memory now.
Dad's on double-shift today, from behind the counter,
he can see and feel, the paint is off.

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