They call her Stella
No one knows her real name
She just turned up, one day, on the corner of Lloyds,
Shuffling in a shabby coat, two sizes too big, against the rain,
Against the cold and damp,
Against life in general,
An unimportant shadow,
Painted in a smudge of grey,
On cloudy streets of stone.
All nerves and edgy
She never speaks
Lost in her own suffering
An invisible bundle
Undone and fallen
Living in a troubled mind.


She sings like an angel,
Damaged and threadbare,
On broken colours of the heart
Her song between the lines of many
Shaming the day
And for a moment the weary streets listens
Until enough change had been gifted
For cigarettes and gin.

Rag Tag Daily Prompt #18: Stellar

Rag Tag Daily Prompt #19. Shaken

Copyright ©RMC June 2018

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s