I wrote a poem on an opera-singing busker in Queen St Mall. She stopped quite a crowd last Saturday, and out-sang the noise of jack-hammers and drills from the building site. I think she is truly incredible, and this poem is a tribute to her.

 

She Sang in Queen Street Mall

She sang again today

and her song filled Queen Street Mall

and flew soaring over jack-hammers

and held us all in thrall

A big brown Amazon

whose sound is liquid power

she stopped us in our tracks

and held us spell-bound for an hour

She sang to us of loss and pain

and we recalled lost dreaming

she sang to us in language strange

and we understood her meaning

And we filled her hat with gold

complimenting her clear call

for this hard city needs a soul

and she sings in Queen Street Mall

Cherie Pugh