Endeavour

[churinga]

In the snarling stations,
the beeping anger of the traffic's tide, 
something leavens:
this child's smile,
their delight in fairy dresses. 
The way a girl both tall and beautiful 
still bows her head. 

There's a sadness in the world 
that Baudelaire remarked 
makes the beautiful more beautiful. 
A longing, a yearning for the view of distant places. 
A contrast, the stain of whores collapsing, 
heroin fixed. 
A baby's pure eyes.
This pencil
trying to 
record it all.