A Candidate

She came along the sidewalk

Fatigue all over her face

And a shopping bag that

Had seen much wear

And a captive's sort of pace.

A young couple passed

With the laughs of Love

But she almost ran them down.

While the countenance remained

As if in a mold of

Duty, pressure and frown.

I was at my chair

With an A chord harp

And some bluesy tune of note

As she brushed right by

To the pharmacy with

A scrip the Doctor wrote.

With her child at Home

From a flu caught bad

And her job stalled in the mix.

She could ill afford

This diversion sad.

Did I think my tunes might fix?

Then she stopped abrupt

And turned round to hear

Of a sweet and heartfelt riff

And a slight smile came

As her Dragon tamed

And the music said, What if, what if.

Harmonicahelps.….. from a contented Busker.