Ross Vassilev

save a thought ...

I remember all the homeless

my mother and I saw in New York everyday

we always gave them a dollar

and they would always say

Thank you, sir

I sometimes think about all the mentally ill

who sit in small rooms and scream

or laugh all day at nothing at all

or write poetry—

maybe one had something to do with the other

all the ugliness of New York

is enough to kill your soul, drive you insane

and sometimes when a person

loses their mind

sad to say

it never comes back

so think about all these people

every now and then

with a tear in your eye

and a yellow rose.

One thought on “Ross Vassilev

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