Street Show

I saw her on the street, with her face painted,
Doing gymnastics, wearing an attire tainted

Little she was, perhaps just six or seven,
With twinkling eyes of an angel dropped from heaven

I tried to see what her face was painted like
She'd done a black mustache with cheeks red bright

She arched her body back, hands holding feet tight,
And did it with such ease, were there no bones inside?

What was that blank expression on her face?
Why was she missing the childlike grace?

Did she learn at school these skills?
Who must be paying her tuition bills?

She moved to the car in front after the show,
Spread her hands, tilted head and whispered slow

The driver grunted and closed the window pane,
She knocked once before moving to another cab again

What if she gets no alms enough but only a few,
What would happen to her back home I never knew

How could God be so unfair to some,
What bad this little child could have done

From one car to another she was moving,
A penny or none folks were giving

I was restless, looked at signal light,
And found myself holding the steering wheel tight

Why isn't clock ticking, why's the time moving slow,
Oh she's now coming to me! God, oh no...

I turned my face to the other side, pretending not to see
She was there with her painted face, standing near me

Just then the light turned green, gosh! I got my way,
I started the car, changed the gear and I flew away

-- smita

Response to "Street Show"
We all walk on the street with our face painted,
trying to keep the attire clean and hiding the soul that is tainted.

We all grow up with our 'own' dreams in our heart
and learn to see the world as orderly bar chart.

Little do we understand the reality existing outside our AC car
that little hands on other side of window seems like another world afar.
We all express our world with taught emotions in our eyes
emotions that are all cooked up and garnished with the lies
that's why we get shaken for a moment when we see blank frozen cries.

The cries that are all true and imposed by the same word we think perfect,
and we assume for our comfort that was twinkling angel's effect.
While we blame Him for problems in the word,
He sends his angels in disguise to test our souls
trying to remind us of our duties and assigned roles.

We try to shift gears holding steering wheel tight,
He gets his answers and then shows us the green light.
-Manish Hiray