Chipped yellow nails, stained from days of living off the same Indian curry
Filthy disheveled hair, entangled amidst itself in frizzy curls, oily
Clothes, scarce- A flimsy, gossamer tee clinging on to her emaciated structure of bone
And there she stood, by the corner under the shade, daily, all alone
I smiled at her once, she returned a hollow look
But when the limo came, two steps forward she took
And that’s when I knew- her wallet was full;
The only poverty was in her soul- it was her heart that was broke.