Let there be light

Let there be lightThere stood a bakery once,

Greasy chips and sweets for the taking.

But they cleared it to make way for a underpass and an overpass

Or a combination of the two, I cannot say, for what does it matter?

On its ruins, there sits a man now;

Making conversation with the flower seller a few feet away,

Under the harsh glare of passing headlights,

Amid the dust kicked up by a thousand feet,

Selling hope in the forms of little balls of light,

Eliciting a smile and a pause in those who stop by to notice.


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