Tiny frail limbs drown within her too-thin berry coat,
Edges matted with dirt, ragged sleeves
Scraggly hair lay behind its owner’s head
Ignored, unkept, a corpse upon her back
Faded, pilling cotton tights, belie her tarnished Innocence
Awkward, cheap, plastic shoes
Clobber and restrain any remaining exuberance
Listless eyes opened wide
Grubby little fingers anxiously stroke small coins
She stands, motionless in front of the store display
Glossy, artificially vibrant rubbish piled high into perfect rows
Already she hears the Siren Call: Consumerism
An antiseptic, soothing the vigilant, chaffing poverty she lives
For within every smooth, filmy wrapping lay a flicker of Hope
A moment of Peace, the seductive power of Ownership