The Girl In Green Lost At Sea
The girls green pants fluttered as she nibbled half-heartedly at an unappetising, homemade lunch.
She sat alone, in the middle of an unvarnished, wooden table, obscured by a building scrawled with meaningless graffiti.
I didn't realise it at first, but I understand now.
The girl was irretrievably lonesome.
It looked like she was drifting out to sea, caught in an emotional current of her own making.
Merely looking at her, made one fire off a flare, high into the darkened skies of one's forgotten memories.
'It's a crime to eat alone!', a ghostly voice whispered within me.
I cast my blurry eyes across her bony, white cheeks and surveyed her auburn, uncombed, hair that blew about in the wind.
A singular quality betrayed the loss of her fighting spirit.
It was as if a broken wretch lived in the depths of her crystal, blue eyes.
Or, an untarnished river that had never known the pollution of an inner-city harbour languished inside.
Yes, a tragedy had befallen this woman, and yet, here she was.
Still breathing, alive, ready to continue on her wayward way through life.
Hopelessly alone, like all of us. Unhappily happy.
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