Cross-Roads

It dripped down the car-window, slowly.The drop of water, unholy.

It was reminiscent of a day passed, of roads and ways she crossed.

There was pain, a sob, a sigh. And yet, no voice out loud, no cry.

The baby at her breast was starved, but a cover to nakedness it carved.

All she wanted was it to survive, and all its life to strive,

for a drop of water, a piece of bread, for this she bore being stared, marred, feelings tied, emotions cried.

It dripped down the car-window. It was stubborn, outloud and slow.

A wail in the air conditioned, a whim of the youth, loose and bored.

All she wanted was everything. And that was all she had.

And their eyes met, for a second though, each had its own flow.

Its own love its own pain, both hearts bore a stain.

The tears shed tasted the same, sour.

There’s a tear on both sides of the window, but does the window cry.

Or it just bears witness to the life’s finesse.

The unhappy pair and destiny fair.

He just groped his bag for the ID badge, it was time to go.