New York City-part Two

It is a crime
Like imaginary figures
Lying on the street
Covered with newspapers
On a windy day
With dirty faces...

That they do not carry pictures
To prove they need
To be recognized
For having a past
And remembered
To make a future possible...

This is the first hurdle
To go somewhere
And the second
To arrive
And then what happens
Is left to opened...

And then to be read
Depending on
How important one is,
Either left aside
Or answered...

Tossed in the air
Torn, perhaps
Ignored, maybe
Only misplaced
Into the trash
That gets left on the street...

Which didn't meet
Any criterion at all,
Lacking direction
Made the outdoor file
But haven't you ever
Wished you never
Threw that out?

COPY WRITE©2009

poem by Romeo Della Valle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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