CASTAWAY

 

 

CASTAWAY

I toil in the wasted day
all my hours passed away.
Like the sandal of Ho Chi Mihn
with only one foot to begin again.
How did it arrive on a Vancouver Street
without the other sandal
and a pair of feet?
Perhaps blown here from jungles far
by a cluster bomb or mine right up to par.
A limping child a hideous scar
a present from the war criminals from afar.
Or off a homeless cart
when the load came apart
another place another day
for all those things we have
castaway.

JWL
copyright 08/07/2008
all rights reserved

La Dolce Vita!
Ciao!