Aada Sokolnicki
Every morning he goes and sits in his place
While no one seems to meet his face
He sits along the pathwalk edge
So he would not cause an extra stretch
All day he looks at people passing by
While they rise their eyes to greet the sky
He looks at people in the store
In the cafe, when they are laughing more
He sees them share cups of coffee
Fresh pastries and sometimes toffee
He watches them buy ice cream cones
While under his shirt he meets his bones
Some days still he hears
When they whisper their cheeks in tears
They worry about the wasting famine
And blame the greed in humans built in
They are anxious of the world state
The children dying just due “wrong faith”
But after all every sorrow
Will only persist in their world until tomorrow
There he sits in the dimming lights
Outside their windows and out their minds
And he wonders to himself;
What you do not see
You do not have to feel
And that is why
They do not look
Because only then
They can think themselves as good