Choice

"Vanilla or chocolate?"

The ice cream vendor sings

at longing eyes.

She hesitates, a finger twitch,

this is new to her.

She looks at the 

pictures, willing them to help

but chocolate tempts and vanilla 

beckons just the same.

"Do you want any?"

asks the vendor again,

impatience leaking in

but all she does

is stare at him.

The hint of fear, a sprinkle of wonder,

her eyes shine with them.

First his face, then voice,  

melts like his wares.

"Maybe both?"

he asks again.

She takes a breath,

A chin tilt to the right,

"I'm sorry, just a chocolate today"

She pays, takes her treat,

walks out of sight.

She unlocks the door

of a tiny little flat,

her haven, moved into 

barely hours ago

with a box for a table, another

for a chair.

She licks on soft cold chocolate.

She wonders,

a thought she has not the strength to voice,

if the vendor will ever know

he was the first to give her a choice.