The Crossing GuardA Poem by A. Elizabeth HertingA perspective from one who holds the sign...The Crossing Guard
The Crossing Guard stands in the pouring rain, a lonely vigil of one. Her neon yellow vest cuts through the gloom and although it pours, she has no umbrella. Her sign held high, she wards off the careless ones, the cell phone obsessed masses always in a hurry, never slowing down. The ones who tap their brakes once before turning right into her corner, barreling through the two crosswalks she has been entrusted with. She guards the children in her care, putting her body in front of them and all imminent danger. She feels their joy, she feels their sadness. The anxious child, waiting in vain for a father stuck in traffic, a mother running late. The Crossing Guard has seen it all, felt it all. The anger of a parent chastising her for not directing traffic properly or the impatience of the harried spilling coffee onto their laps from the sudden stop. Damn you, Crossing Guard! Yet, she is there, rain or shine, sleet or snow, just as vigilant as the mailman but not paid nearly as much. Horns blaring, children laughing, sign blowing away as she tries to hold onto it in the intense wind. The Crossing Guard is always watching, always waiting but you will never see her for the Crossing Guard was struck and killed two years ago. Mowed down in the very street she tried to protect. Yet she is there still, waiting and watching, watching and waiting. Can you see her mangled countenance, ripped scalp hanging over a smashed in face, tire tracks seared into her yellow vest? No? Well, put down the cell phone my friend and take a good look. For she can see you and she is always watching..... © 2016 A. Elizabeth HertingReviews
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4 Reviews Added on April 12, 2016 Last Updated on August 24, 2016 AuthorA. Elizabeth HertingCentennial, COAboutI am an aspiring writer living in Colorado. I have published some non-fiction, online copy writing work and recently had a fiction piece accepted for publication. When not writing and driving around m.. more.. |

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