The Crowded Street
They rush past
in a never ending crowd
some in uniforms
of police, soldiers,
security men and nurses,
some in suits, some with ties
and others in informal clothes.
Some are stone faced
with no emotion showing
while their thoughts
is somewhere else,
some are happy and smiling,
others are sad and some are crying.
Some carry briefcases, some suitcases
and other backpacks, handbags
and others bags.
Almost every one
has a place to go
where duty or pleasure takes them,
but here and there
some wander as if lost from life,
others hawk things at corners
and some stand around begging.
poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
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