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
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