The street vendor

The shimmering lights catch your attention
The beautiful shawls awe you
You imagine the warmth,
That softness of Pashmina on your skin
But before you pass me by,
Before I become invisible to you
Spare a thought for me too.

I'm old; I'm cold.
But I don't complain
I toil a lot and bring you these vegetables
They are not branded
But I swear they're fresh
Spare a penny for me too...