Wait-

Find out

The gypsy woman at the street's final destination

As she cries out for a thoroughly used but useless penny

And I ask myself why it is so hard

For but one person to sneak a glance

Or meet her glazed grey eyes

And maybe tell her the time of day

I used to excuse myself but persecute others

I am too small, too young, should not talk to strangers

Why does the businessman or the waitress

Not offer their hands as she pleads without shame

Has chivalry died while my cheek was turned?

But now I see that to those who have no voice

And are  mere wisps of a night sky's shadow

That perhaps the very acknowledgement of their presence

Can make all the difference

So to the woman I offer but a glance and a wry smile

Which will have to suffice for now, even though it twists my insides

Until age steals my youth

And I become a beggar woman

Unnoticed, unheard, invisible