THE OLDER MALL
The double level mall is older. Spacious.
The architect provided here and there
Life sized statues, of a family:
Father carrying small ones on his shoulders;
Mother raising baby overhead;
Approving parents watching children’s antics.
There is no “music”; little in the crowd
That’s raucous loud or frantic.
Raising my eyes from a lower level bench, observing,
I saw a young and slender person — yes, a girl.
Entering the higher level and slowly walking
Toward the railing, where she could lean down
To see the chattering crowd of moving people
Below. She was beautiful. She looked intently.
But oh — the shock! Her heavily made-up face,
Her tawdry, gaudy, low cut glittery dress
on such a sunny autumn morning as this.
Leaning her face on tightly clenched fists
She looked down on the moving crowd of people:
Young and old; high school girls. High school!
She looked and looked, then looked again.
Then suddenly turned
And quickly left where she had entered.
Let your compassion come to me that I may live. (Psalm 119:77, NIV)