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Date Posted: 10:36:59 07/19/02 Fri
Author: PujA
Subject: The Broken Toy

(I dunno if I'll work on this anymore.. kind of sounds wierd to me.. gave me a vague feeling of reality.. if you like it then good..f not then good too cos I'm indifferent to it..)


The Broken Toy.

The barren street sends a chill to my spine.
I look around for a taxi,
Everything looks dark and sinister.
No place for a delicate toy to spend time.
The bricks on the wall; washed clean.
I await my wooden bench,
The one I brought the flee market.
What a bargain!!

'Little crooks hanging around the next corner,
They could bring the knife to my throat,
Steal everything there would be left of me,
Molest me, leave me to die on those streets.'
The more I thought the more it made me dizzy.

"Give me a dime",
"Anything, I'm hungry, quite desperate...Please."
She jumped out of the corner and looked at me.
The filthy smell on her attire making me nauseous.

Sixteen, seventeen or maybe younger;
Kohl spread all over her face,
She may have been crying, she was hungry.
Her torn brassiere indicating a different story.
Scratches on her hands, neck and legs,
Blood on her dress and shoes.
Her pleading eyes asking me to save her.
I stood and stared at that face.
I had spent the last dime on my broken bench.

I thought .... what could I ask her?
Where is your mother;or
What are you doing here; or
Do you want to spend the night in my bed?
I had not been with anyone for a long time.
I could offer her the last piece of stale bread.
The one I had left on that broken bench.

It was her turn; she looked awkwardly at me.
Lost eyes, dry tears and pale skin.
She followed me as I walked.
"Would you wait a second."
I stopped and turned to look.
She was bending down to pick up her broken toy.

PUJA GOYAL (19 July 2002)

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