Girls in bright dresses shaded with grime
run down red dirt roads,
barefoot, heads shorn
through corridors of maize and sugar cane.
While boys in rags drop their sticks,
lithe like licorice whips,
to hitch a gleeful ride
on our bus's behind.
A quarter passes the wrong way
through a window.
Smiles break broad.
They press eager faces to the glass –
Needing everything and nothing.
– Alisha Hipwell