***shopping With An Angel*** Poem by Ian Bowen

Bathed in tepid water,
powder puffed in clouds of special talc:
this little lady is then pigtailed
with coloured ribbons
and dressed to kill.

Placed in her royal carriage
that bumps up and down
the pavements of High Streets,
she stares up at passing knees,
looks straight into the hungry,
wolfish eyes of dogs.

Today is shopping day;
a day for her to leave her mark
and make her the star
of some naughty cabaret.

In tempting stores,
her tiny hands will reach
for all that she can see;
never quite understanding
why, it doesn't all belong to her.

Deprived and unrewarded
by messy chocolate dreams,
she sucks at the empty air
and pitches an almighty scream;
that falls and grates
on the edgy nerves
of innocent shoppers.

The scream then turns
into a nagging mummbling whimper,
before that uncontrollable fit.

Her eyes now red
as a Bourneville wrapper.
Candlesticks below her nose,
bubble in a manic rage.
Her feet stamp the footrest
like a Spanish dancer…..

This world, can seem so unfair,
to a little girl... with ribbons in her hair.

Shopping with Little Angels