Little feet smack the street with
Plastic flip flops beckoning play while
Drums beat through the afternoon
Covered in wind and rain and the
Slippery gray and white streets that
Watch foreigners slip through
Disheveled and wishing for rest
These are the quiet days of a lower
Cost life because money erodes like
Mountains building up in all the
Wrong places so there are valleys of
Poverty and hills that carry others away
From the sadness that permeates wanting

Author: Erica V.

Always seriously joking and rambunctiously soft-spoken.

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