Soup

tired, dragging my spent luggage
back to my quarter
I lay on my corner and wait.

as the bell tolls,
crows starts to rally
along the narrow lines.

chopped and diced lumps
of potatoes, onion, goes down
boiling, boiling.

scent of the soup,
the atmosphere of crows’ stares,
let us enjoy this soup,
for tomorrow is another unknown day.

9.30.2021