Will you buy a flower?

Her voice demands it.

Look to her eyes, Brightblack

Do you dare look away?

A flower?

She clutches at her thin, bright shawl,

As a shield against the glares and

Jeers that pass her way,

For what she is not

Drawn again to her eyes impatient, proud

She does not need you to buy her flower

But her gray face and the quiet pleading

Tell you otherwise

Sir, a flower?

She asked this before,

This quiet question

Of others who gave her not one cold glance

The eyes that look her way

Worse than the wind that numbs her bones

How dare she walk our streets?

She turns

catches your eye one last time,

Bright black with a spark of fire, And asks

Almost defeated

A Flower?

Pay the meager fee

For a weak and wilted red carnation

Cut by the winds

Now turn away, look away,

And know

You will never see her brightblack eyes again