In the tunnel to the subway platform
At Avenue de Ru du bac station,
An attractive women held up a small sign,
hand-drawn, that read “Merci.”

She was a charming Parisian woman
Trying to look dignified and gracious
In the unsavory act of begging for money.
Begging to survive made her miserable.

She wore a cameo-like necklace
With a picture of her two babies in it.
The imploring look in her doleful eyes
Was for the benefit of a passersby.

France outlawed begging with children.
A law against begging ended in 1994.
Fines stopped because the penalties
Had no effect in putting an end to the act.

I put cash in the paper-cup she held.
Nicely dressed, she did not seem to be
your typical beggar in the subway.
Not much paper money in the cup.

On a seat under the window
Of the Metro subway car,
I found a white linen handkerchief
With pink embroidery around the edges.

The handkerchief had a delicate feel
To it, like it belonged to that woman,
Whose mother did the embroidering
And gave it to her as a gift.

And she left it behind for me,
Planted on the subway bench.
I took it home, washed it,
Folded it, and put it in a drawer.

---

Stephen Barile is an award-winning poet from Fresno, California, and a Pushcart Prize nominee. He attended Fresno City College, Fresno Pacific University, and California State University, Fresno. His poems have been anthologized, and published in numerous journals, both print and on-line. He taught writing at Madera College, and CSU Fresno. (50 words)