Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2021
The sun had hid her warmth
For a ragged girl with blistered feet
That sold her ware with all her voice
That begged for justice on the street

And still she cried "buy here my goods"
She was the sun, she wore her smile
The world had ripped the rags she wore
And only gazed a little while

It gazed and gazed and soon forgot
The cries, the tears the frail demand
The light it took without remorse
From this her garish suppliant

And still she smiled for she knew well
That streets have harboured yet so many
No hope was lost, no word undone
"Come buy my goods, t'is but a penny"

But winter clenched its iron fist
The seasons took the earth with ease
And drew the line; the rich were warm
The poor were famished by degrees

Her voice died out, her cry was muffled still
The curtain fell with little care
Her final bow she took, one faint applause
One last shrill cry; "come buy my ware"

She had left the world a memory
But the graveyard still is ignorant
Of the life it took without remorse
From this her loving suppliant
Written by
Fenna Capelle
Please log in to view and add comments on poems