Quietly Entering Lives

I’ve been painting windows,
Up a ladder,
In the street where Mr. H. lives.
Its his house
That Ive been working on,
In a Bristol side street.
And each day
As Ive worked
Ive watched the people
Of the road go by.
And slowly
They have come to know me,
The old guy
Up the ladder
Painting windows.

Two boys live next door
And they say Hi
As they go by.
Their mum asked me
Yesterday,
If I had heard her
Fall down her stairs
From top to bottom.
She showed me the bruises
On her arms.
I felt the pain.

A man from down the road
Says hallo each day,
And the Indian families
Across the road
Bring out their children
Every morning for school.
Their voices are
Such music to me
As I look down
From up on high.
So many questions
They ask so eagerly.
And when I smiled
The mother smiled too,
To share such joy.

A black guy drove
Slowly by just now
In his large BMW.
And further down the road
An African woman
Always catches my attention.
She has a body like
Ripe fruit,
Bursting with juice,
Full of life.
And several times each day
I see the woman with
Red, yellow and green hair.
Walk by or cruises
On her bicycle.
She dresses like her hair.

And as they each pass me,
Up the ladder,
I feel the sharing
Of the road;
Of our proximity;
Of smiles
And childrens laughter.
I sense the entering
Of subtle things
Given to each other
In Mr H’s Road.

Copyright © 2005 Tony Crisp