A lady in black, devoid of glamour
Walked those streets on the judgemental ground
A sparkle of shine was just shining darker
And was waiting within her to be found

In the world full of suns, she was the moon
Who nourished beams of light, but differently
In the world full of roses she was a lily in bloom
Who was to reel her head proudly

A white woman she saw, lying on the street
Who begged and prayed, and hungered and starved
O’ if someone would present her a treat
Was soulfully singing her heart

The black lady glanced
A cold stir ran through her nerves
She said “ more than any race that ever chanced”
“humanity has lived the most years”

Her gentle hands had food, irrespective of their race
From which rich spoilt men never part

Black was surely her face
But golden was her heart.

Shruti Maste