The shiny new pram
was screaming
at the top
of its lungs.
The young girl
in charge
(odd these days to see a mum under twenty)
seemed unconcerned
as she scanned the shelves -
IPod in ear,
face miles away.
I peeped under the cover.
A pair of pale blue legs
kicked frantically,
a tear-stained face,
contorted with despair.
As the young girl
left the checkout,
I wondered how long
It would be
before she’d notice
and pick up the poor little mite.
Alison Cassidy
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/neglect-8/
