The Cripple at the Royal Visit

Gaiety and colour in its splendour adorns the crowd who wait
Shuffling foot to foot and muffling hands that rub to numb the chill that’s in the air today
Smiling faces, noisy chatter, how they fill the air with muffled drones of conversation

Lanky, Stocky, light and dark, all a roaming mass
But look!
What’s that the corner of my eye I see?
A twitching fretting thing in a wheel chair being pushed
Not too near me I hope
Just look such deformation
I feel my body prickle to a shudder
As they wheel him past

I shall soon forget, cus it’s not my fret
Why lucky are we to stand in a line, and never be aghast with stares
How mindless we’ve allowed ourselves to be