“How the world is changing”,
Said the old man, clutching at the table,
“Who knows what the next day will bring?”
In the distance we could hear a bird sing
Sitting atop a sign with a flaking label:
“How the world is changing”.
“We really shouldn’t ling-”
I was cut off as a pair walked past the table:
“Who knows what the next day will bring,”
Is all I could catch before I continued, “Lingering
Would be inadvisable.”
“How the world is changing.”
He repeated. But my phone had already begun to ring.
“Private number”, I said, and answered as sweetly as I was able:
“How the world is changing.
Who knows what the next day will bring.”
Poetry and Prose 