Tuesday, May 31, 2011


Cars push through, drains overflow.
Some shutters down, some rise,
scenes fly past the busy eyes.
But do you see, he who goes slow?

Trudging along on his battered shoes.
Listless hands and a muddied face,
an antithesis to the surrounding race.
Carrying a pallid soul and many a bruise.

Alone he walks but isn't an only one.
Every turn, bodies stumble, souls die;
you may see them lying on the wayside.
But no time to spare; busy you are ... in your run.

On an unrelated note, the next post has to be on the trip to Hong Kong and Taiwan.