Off To The Side, Picking Flowers Poem by Timmy Curran

The mothers cradle the life,
but one sits apart,
looking at the older men
passing, walking dogs, smoking
speaking to themselves
A lovely sun, showers
my baby in a golden glow
She rests her weary mind,
allows it to go, wherever it goes
Lola and Andy came to say hello,
eating cheese and stealing socks,
the infinite wisdom, with
which they live, is abound
in the whimsical way they depart
And the one old lady,
watching alone, seeing her life
all before her, the eyes of a peasant