|
he
with the still twinkling eyes
that have seen too
much
he
of the sad smile that twists
every kind
heart
he
walks in front
with his dirty fingers
light on the
ivory
intermissions
and
she
who remembers more years
of luxury
prior
follows
clutching
a battered Burger King cup
which
she shakes
with her dry hands
in rhythm
mother
follows son
on this sad endless march;
he with
arms just long enough
to hug his accordion
she with dreams
deeper
than the copper dropped in the cup;
both
comforted by the music
that connects them
and sustains
them
she
with enough love
to still be proud
he awash with dreams that
keep
his brown eyes clean.
he
walks in front. | 
