Age of Innocence

Sitting on the pavement, an innocent face In a dignified poise with beauty and grace A smile on her lips, she gives a pleasant look Her creations of jewellery hung on every hook Tiny little fingers she held them before me Anticipation and anxiety, in her eyes I could see Her fingers looked sore as the money they took They were tiny soft and pink, they trembled and shook In her childhood days she should be sitting with a book Or dance and play and swim in a brook Weaving threads of wool and beads in a strand? This is not her age nor the place for her to stand