Girl in Belgrade

She's ten, and her dress is red.
It's summer, and she swings her thin arms
With gathering momentum
Of excitement and determination,
Walking uphill on Ustanicka Street,
Her best friend (who'll probably
Fall in love with her later) by her side.
Dust, dirt, and ugliness blend into
These pavements, their turf.

Just before I lose them from view,
A black cat strolls across their path.
She stops and lightly lifts her long arms,
Waiting, while he continues, oblivious
Of the spell he's stepping into.

Yes, she'll be fine, this little girl.
She knows what to do.
Her smallest gestures betray
Her girlpower, the whole city
Holding its breath under her sway.