The button girl

She sells buttons,
On the corner,
Between West and 7th.
Sitting on a ratty blanket,
She shivers.
Her tiny bony hands,
Hold a tin.
Full to the brim with buttons.
She calls in her frail voice.
Button's for sale.
All day long.
Hoping a kind person,
Will buy her buttons.
So she can have a warm meal,
Maybe even a new blanket.