Pretty in Pink
I meant to write this post a few weeks back, a continuation of my ordinary people posts.She had wisps of grey and white hair, loosely tied. A few stray strands of pepper-white frayed out. These she swept aside with gnarled hands that looked battered by years of hard labour and worn out by arthritis.
A crowd formed near her. Listless, anxious, awaiting the ripening moment.
She felt around for the switch and flicked it on, a slow low hum of electricty filling the air. Then she starteed playing a classical tune, her lips and hands dancing across the harmonica.
The moment had finally arrived. Conversation petered out, the incessant tapping of anxious feet on the sidewalk stopped. Everyone in the crowd got ready. Tight hand squeezes between couples. They might have wondered if she would be ready too for the bright light and maddening pulse.
In a way she was, confidently issuing forth wondrous tones from that mouth organ. When she looked up her grey eyes started to sparkle reflecting a lost youth, a pasison for music and life.
So we all crossed the road to the flashing green man and his pulsating rhythm.
Nobody noticing the lady.
The one with grey hair, pretty in pink.
posted by leo @ 10:25 PM
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