The flower girl

Sitting in the air-conditioned car ,
I saw her running towards me barefeet.
Her small ,frail face lighting up
to see the red light .
Traffic rushing around
like a menacing mad rush
(as vivid as a crime scene
in an English movie).
Jumping the railing,
pushing her competitor
tiny hands holding a horde of flowers
-some as fresh as the morning dew  ;
-some stale, crushed,crumpled
as an old love letter.
She brushed against the
window glass,her dirty
hands so evident against
the fresh paint of the car:
"Memsahib,phool lelo na"
She was a flower girl
living a thorny life.
So young,So beautiful,
Yet unblossomed and
undesired by anyone.
The redlight turned green,
her image thinning
into an apparition ; 
distant and bleak,
making me
 ponder over
my blessed
 childhood !!