These women of my neighbourhood

These women of my neighbourhood
These busily chattering jackdaws
With eager sounds, walking around
The lanes in my vicinity
For their evening rounds,
Exercising, walking, talking, gawking

None ever stopped to ask me once
For years that they have seen me now
How are you sister, you live so solitary?
How are you my friend, are you ever ill or alone?
What goes by in your soul or your hearth?
What is it that you lend your ears to?
Through what trials of soul or body
Do you go through now and then?

How come none ever stopped to ask me
Is what baffles me often?
For do they not know that I must be so
Alone, sad or lost at times?
I would not have any who would smile at me?

Or do they construe that I must be so strong
While they row their boats of life, with a whole family in tow
I do it alone, unsupported by any
With my pack of four for family?

They never really stop except on seeing me, glare,
Utter brief, scarcely audible, reluctant hello-s
Unaccompanied by a smile or interest or ever a query
Inquiring into my health, or anything I do
I have sometimes thought what thoughts would occupy
Their minds for whole long days
In lives so full, they have not a moment to spare
For someone they do not comprehend, yet do not attempt either

These jackdaws of my neighbourhood
Loud, noisy, full of their selves, at all times
Indifferent, proud and heady, gloating in their big cars
Their big homes, and in their small hearts
Visibly carefree, cold and rough.

Or may be they think of me thus
Who knows!
(Though I only encounter them as I walk by pack
Nothing big about me either)