Face on the Footpath

Ponderings from Beaufort St – 28thMay 2013
It was lost and forlorn
Lying, looking up at me
A face amongst the myriad marching feet
It did not flinch or winch
Just looked in flat surprised
I wonder how it reached this spot
Did it slip between his grasp
Or slide from wallets fold
I wonder what the owner felt
Searching for his face
Was it his?
A copy of his face
Passport picture perfect
His permit and his freedom
That blank stare of officialdom
Perhaps it was his lover
A memento of better days
When love was warm and tender
A reminder, that blank stare
Once gazed into her eyes with wonder
It looked up
As I looked down
A passport picture on the street
And I wondered what the history was

Of that face upon the street.

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