The Flower Girl...

A picture speaks a thousand words they say,

And a million did her face display…

She excitedly held out her fresh rose bunch to the urbane lady,

Her innocent amber eyes with a longing appeal to exchange it for some money ready.

She could see that lush pink scarf she longed for in her mind so clear,

And she put out her tired hand awaiting the tinkle of coins in her palm so near.

I’ve got a cheaper one beyond, her patron said,

And rushed away in the flurry of the crowds ahead.

The road bustled with activity and chugged away with shoppers hurrying past,

She hoped her flowers would find favour with one not the last.

But the bright evening moved on and the tireless clock ticked away,

The festive streamers lining the road continued to sway.

The little flower girl sat huddled by the roadside,

Among the many wayside pedlars she stood aside.

The flashy red and yellow lanterns lit up her dark brown hair,

While her face glittered with the stains of a long dried tear.

Her flowers were beginning to wither.

She wearily looked at the yellow marigold, the white daisy and her lavender.

Maybe tomorrow will bring more promise,

Maybe the cruel winds of bad luck would meet its nemesis.

She lifted her cane basket and walked away…

With a hope that better days are not far away…