Moments before the light turned green,
A rap on the window broke my reverie.
Peering inside my rolled up window,
A picture in rags stood now.
Hand extended, face contorted
A feeble voice, message thwarted
Blank response to my mute empathy
And my mind tossed in a quandary.
I could avert my face and ignore her,
Or, pay for the somersaults she performed mid-road
Acrobatics in the middle of the roads
Busy intersections, screaming horns.
That little girl of seven perhaps,
Pausing for no breather between the laps.
Contrasting indifference to commendable feat,
The child of seven, trying to swallow defeat
Some alms thrown in disdain,
Some words of contempt barely contained
She, but, bore them all
Proud dignity in a frame so small
A voice called out from somewhere
She ran there to collect the fare
The light, but, turned green
And she watched in despair.
As the traffic sped past her,
She stood waiting for the next halt to occur.
I carried home the little girl’s plight
She stayed with me through the night.
Morning after, the light dawned new
Her thought evaporated like misty dew….
