Am I Born, Part II: Parade

WINTER SCENE

Faces shuffle by:

some spend minutes

others seconds.

Some seem uninterested, altogether,

their eyes fix,

then dart away.

Eyes widen,

eyes tired,

eyes squinting,

old eyes burdened with cataracts,

eyes well up,

eyes cry,

mascara tumbles down the cheeks

of emotional ladies

painting abstract responses

to my value

GHOSTs of 1820

Perhaps not of significant excellence in art

 but still of great value to us.

WINTER SCENE

Eyes eyes eyes,

a parade of eyes

desperate to glean

my value.