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I Saw An Old Woman
I saw an old odd woman,
across a rough watery
street.
Odd as a ghost,
she was with an heavy load.
One on her head, another
on her left fragile hand.
I saw another load of cloth
on the ground.
The least one that fell from
her head. I guess.
She bent to lift it up,
but their was no strength.
I stared, wishing i could help.
She stretched her dying
hands towards me.
Voicelessly bade me to come.
Humble as a worm,
i went close to the
old odd woman.
She tried to communicate.
I tried to comunicate.
Like two deaf people,
we struggled to communicate.
She was saying something
with her gesture.
Yet i could not comprehend.
At last.
She spoke in words i understood.
She spoke in rare vernacular.
Surprise to hear such vernacular
from an old odd woman,
I hurrily put the load on her head.
I am going i said.
Thank you she said.
Hurrily i left.
Looked back again and again
to see if she was still there.
I feared.
poem
by
Enebeli Ifyprada
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