The dream was equality.
Eventually.
Inevitably.
It would happen.
Every year women take to the streets
with placards documenting ongoing
49.6% of the world’s population are not equal.
At all.
Every year he gives her flowers;
Mimosa blossoms (if he can find them).
She will hug him, smile
and arrange them in a vase
surrounded
by the smell of her childhood
and memories
of waiting
patiently waiting
to be given yellow flowers
by boys like him.
Barefoot Sociologist 