Umbrellas, umbrellas, holding off the rain.
Sheltering all from the sky’s falling tears.
A common bareheaded woman with a basket,
Becomes the object of one mans inquiring gaze.
What protects her from his illicit intentions?
His wealth from exploiting her poverty?
She possesses no umbrella against the rain.
No shield against his shower of false affections.
And oblivious; a little girl with toy hoop looks on.
A questioning sadness in her dark, innocent, eyes.
Unconcerned curiosity, observing the world’s corruption.
And yet, and yet: unaware of her own, future vulnerability.
© Copyright 2017 PaulChafer. All rights reserved.
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