Sunrise

It is a warm morning
the rising sun is amber
like oranges on market day
reflecting off the knife
that lies on cold gray concrete.

It is a damp morning
her stringy hair floats in a puddle
drifting slowly down the street
red river.

It is a still morning
the hush
broken only by the insipid twanging
of a guitar with one string missing
he shuffles slowly down the street
pausing in front of her lifeless figure
his weathered face
fills with regret
and a trace of envy

It is a new morning
far away
a mother sits up in bed
her heart slowly tears itself in pieces
and she screams
the agony of a woman
who has lost all hope

the sparkling eyes of her daughter
smile down
at the busy morning shoppers

Missing.