I walk down the alley

Where the sun has baked the bricks

Like bread, they smell warm 

And wholesome,

And I'm jealous of them.

They have one job to do,

And mine, my job is to stand

And draw the sadness out of you.

I see it coming from

Your eyes, like exports of oranges out of Spain.

I stop to grab a rose for you,

A sprawling unkempt bramble in the alley,

Where a little sun shines between the buildings.

And the rose is wild and windblown.

It's bloom is as open as my heart,

And it pulls the tears out of my eyes.

I've given all I can,

And I have taken all I care to take.

In the give and take, I'm done.

I'm walking, on and on,

Down the alley.

-jenn