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Old Woman of the Cold Night
by Donald Standeford I glance down at a bag lady's cart, A worn Bible ten-times As worn as mine; is she so different Than me? Cooks her food in Deli Microwave, I hear hissing As she opens a can of Pepsi; she's Toothless, which means She has very few teeth. When we Collide in each other's path, She stands aside graciously, allows me To pass, tanned wrinkles on her Smiling face Purple baseball cap, black woolen hat To cover the messy gray hair; She wears a black pair of ski pants And a dark gray sweater; she's got Her life all figured out, pushing around That Bible in the shiny new half-sized Fred Meyer cart shoves some bread Into her gapped tooth mouth, pauses To cough with each bite; She sips canned soda through a straw, Bowing her head a little, But she seems pretty strong, The lady in black, old woman, not far From me at the moment; She lives her life in desperate cold, Married to the middle of the night. Don V Standeford http://www.donstandeford.com Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com |