THE BOOTH

Along the side of the road
a silent booth was waiting,
To harbour thirsty souls
away from hot waves chasing.

A creaking carriage rumbles past
and in dusty breaze a face uncovers,
Behind the silk stesses
tender such all harshness has fears

A cool breaze soothes
the hatred of red and yellow leaves,
the treetops russled and
twitlings fluttered their wings

The soft eyes colouring
the rusty backdrop green,
while she eyes the road
even innocent eyes would seem mean

A horn sounds a long way on road
the eyelashes frighteningly flutter,
Eyes search the horizon
but the scene still decepts her

The eyes harbour dispair
cast down in nothingness,
Skies darken with dusty cotton
mirroring those beautiful eyes

A carriage approaches
scissoring the hazy air,
the boarded eyes now look down from
the window at that shanty mere

The carriage takes beautiful eyes
away from that booth,
the wind still does ball with dust
yet the lonely booth awaits.

- OM