Light skates across her dreamy eyes,
Where stubble-faced strangers drift and pass,
Long and lone, they glimmer past,
Darker shadows of yesteryore.
Into the night she walks, no fright,
Through the lonely shades of winding streets,
Ornating the night with her scents,
Drawing lingering pollen bees.
As the lights slowly fade and low,
She loses faith in lucky draws,
For a morsel of fleeting bread,
Her longing eyes drift back home.
At last, a motor roars and hums,
A ghost of wealth gliding past,
Along the way to nightly feasts,
While silent eyes still long for home.