Crossley Road

     A deluge of rain smears
the scene at Crossley Road:
Light etched in the cracks
of a sun-baked street sign
A Morse code in the middle,
deciphering the great divide
The dusty smell of pavement,
mixed with perfume escaping
from a blind stranger,
whose arthritic hands clutch
a yellowed photograph, praying
she remembers what youth looks like
She waits - suspending her breath -
for the bus to take her away
from the spotlight of a stand-alone streetlight
and carry her grave soul home