The Red Signal

I stopped with others As the light turned red, Wiping the sweat off my face, I cursed the unkind Sun. I saw this girl, thin and delicate, Holding a metal ring and a scarf red. Her body moved in rhythm, with no music, An audience not bothered of her presence. She did some stunts With the ring as a prop, I stared in awe, her performance left me numb. Bestowed with talent, an artiste she was none, a dweller of the street and her clothes torn. Defining perfection, her eyes so green, A red signal is where she begins… No applause for her as she finished, Amidst strangers, a hope she searched. Looking at her, she did notice, Came to me with arms stretched. I fished into my pockets for a coin or two, Found a note of ten instead, Handing it to her, I offered a smile, Smiling back she left in haste. Her thought haunted me all the way, No rehearsal or a stage to play, A red signal holds all her wants, Destined to begin when ‘else halts…