Violet’s sisters

as the cars go by

we sit on the corners

of the public walkways

under tattered canopies

that used to be hanging gardens

and fields of golden straw

our chiffon gowns encrusted with rubies

are dwindled to greasy rags

crystal chandeliers and exquisite ballrooms

transformed to milk crates and cardboard boxes

dignity and the strength of spirit stand tall while

we grow accustomed to darkness