š¹ Roses in the Street
By Morning Star ā Feb 2022
The first time I saw herā
Selling roses in the streetā
Her hair was golden, tied in twisted braids
Of yellow and blue, a gentle hue
That danced in the rain on tired days
Her smile was hiding turned-up pain
Her voiceāfull of words sheād never say
She gave out flowers to passersby
But wondered where the roses go
And who might stop to ask her name
She said hello
But no one knew
The girl who sold
The roses in the rain
Behind her grin, a guarded heart
She was witty, careful, painfully smart
At end of day, she'd slip away
To an empty place where shadows start
Where pain was deep, but never seen
Still, she rose again at dawnā
Selling roses, all the same
Smiling soft through pouring rain
And every day, she hoped someone
Would see her face, would ask her name
Would hold her close, and not let go
Before the thorns could find her vein
Before the crimson silence flowed
And her dreams were pulled below
Then one dayā¦
She wasnāt there
Another girl stood in her place
No questions asked, no missing face
The town just moved, the moment passed
And all her painā¦
Became the past
But sometimes, when I walk that street
A sudden chill runs over me
And in the rain, I see her there
Her ghost with flowers in her hand
No one asked her where she came
And nowā
Only shadows call her name
Youāve captured that lonely ache of existing among people who never ask, never see. The final imageāof her ghost still selling rosesāis deeply moving and cinematic.
