Street princess

I met the tired gaze of a lost princess

in the last days  of november .

Princess on steps of a palace 

inhabited by ghosts of the past .

Dreams sailing through the sewers

with rats as stewards .

 You,november girl, your raffiot 

is called nowhere,but lust of the eyes...

Diva so pretty in this gutter !

Girl of a thousand life in one scene....

Tending to the blind the dead branches

of your fingers...

The good Santa passed by without seeing you,

a big Havana and a fruity Armagnac 

waiting for him in front of the fireplace

in some neighborhood 

where  the little prince don't look tired ...

I was too much in a hurry to stop ,

but hearing the castaways mute mayday,

but spring is always so far away...

And the Starbuck opposite won't  shed 

a tear of coffee in your empty despair...

Late november the sun's kiss is cold,

you're like an ice princess 

sitting on the station steps 

where travel doesn't  await you...

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So please,friend, if you recognize 

a lost princess,put a few pennies 

in her empty mug ,or  a drop of coffee.

God won't give it back to you ,

but you 'll be entitled to the spark of a look !