Shooting Star on the Street

She was tree-tall, fair
with shooting star
hair

she couldn’t sleep
on the street
that night,
with bare feet

once a forest
would rock her
to sleep
– not concrete.

She laughed
at the bird
and the song
she heard

and I gave
her some change
to keep her out
of the rain.

How did a girl
with shooting star
hair
ever end
up there?

Where is she now-
did she find a way out

or is she back on the street
trying to sleep
in bare feet?

Dear readers, I had a long talk with a homeless women this morning who inspired this poem. She was intelligent and pretty, and I just kept thinking- how did she end up on the street? She had been homeless for three years, and it was too cold to sleep the night before, outside on the streets of Cambridge, England. I bought her a hot chocolate- what can one do?

 

 

Girl on the Street

Hi to any readers! I’ve been thinking about all those people living on the street, now that the weather here in England has turned cold and snowy. This poem is for them.

I’m holding a mirror
to the girl on the street.
What’s your name she asks
the glass and who
knocked you low?

She offers her cup
says I’ll tell you a
secret- look here
a diamond tear
among the coins
they throw.

You’ve a wool hat
like mine and golden curls
rough, a sweet smile –
a deer’s breath in snow.

She leaves the cup there
and the next day
it snows.

No one knows where
she’s gone folded
into the fog
another diamond
laying low.

In the glass I find
a cup full of the blues
and a secret that I keep
from the angel on the street.