Homeless Old Woman
~*~*~*
Tattered and torn,
Old, and quite worn.
She lives on the street,
No shoes on her feet.
They call her "Old Hag,"
Her clothes, but a rag.
Children throw stones,
Never leave her alone.
But somehow she thrives,
Lest her will to survive.
Despite her poor health,
Her absence of wealth.
She sleeps where she's able,
Park benches, old tables.
Eats food from trash cans,
Her bathroom--bedpans.
Seeks shelter from rain,
Most often in vain.
Finds warmth in the winter,
From restaurant air--venters.
She smiles at the sun,
Gives birds half her crumbs.
Has only three teeth,
To chew what she eats.
And each night she does pray,
To see a new day.
Before she closes her eyes,
And quietly dies...
~Anonymous~
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Sad Poems
Poetrya variety of losses, regrets, and depression wrapped into a mess of a poem book started: 04.29.15 completed: 06.24.19 a book that has existed almost as long as I have on here. thank you for giving my story a chance (my apologies if some are really c...
