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Poem

A face presses up to a store window display
of an angel in ermine
with arms bangled and boots thigh high.
Mannikin thighs harder than the fake tree
in the corner festooned with popcorn ...
stale now in the airless window.

The eyes of the child glow looking in
as mannikin eyes look out at the
turtle-necked tourists stopping to smile
at the child watching a toy train wind
past the feet of the angel in ermine
and her glistening red boots.
The train is filled with jeweled brooches,
earrings, and a necklace of diamonds.

Growing tired now,  the child walks
to a cardboard box at the corner of this store
where her mother sits on an old pillow
holding a flute to be played as its
red carrying case fills with coins.
Coins that will never buy diamonds.

Hauntingly beautiful Christmas carols her mother plays
while the child sits on the sidewalk
watching feet pass and coins drop.
Soon, they will walk across the street to a cafe
where she will drink hot chocolate
before they return to this box
to sleep in the silent night.

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