The Traffic Signal

Familiar faces greet me everyday,
A broken toothed smile, a face with a scar,
Blind eyes hidden behind dark glasses,
A hand full of news from near and from far,

Sometimes I stop for maybe a rag,
Or to buy a flower and see a hint of joy,
Behind it all a familiar wail,
The red-signal flower lady's baby boy,

Today I realized that many a day had passed,
Before I had heard the wailing, last,
Where is the lady and where is the boy?
I wish I had at least bought him a toy.