Walking For the Poor Woman

Every day you walk down town and smile as you get to that bench You see her in the same old spot, she sits there every week She plays a song, while her children dance And you listen as tells you stories about romance You walk down town with your spare change and smile as you get to the bench You see her children wrapped in blankets that you know she probably sewed And it's December so its chilly and your hands are really cold But you watch her play on her guitar And you watch her fingers strum it gently And you smile as her hoarse voice sings a song You throw your change into her worn out and chipped guitar case And you grin as she smiles and blesses your heart You walk down town with your camera and you smile as you get to the bench You see her children fanning themselves off and laying on the cool cement int the shade Its May and its hot and you frown at your peeling sun burn but you stay to hear her song She strums on her guitar skillfully and her gritty voice projects loudly You snap some pictures of her and her kids with your Polaroid and you watch them develop and you give them to her You notice how she keeps coughing and sniffling but you say nothing and put your usual amount of change in the case And just smile as she blesses your heart You walk down town with your coffee and smile as you get to the bench You don't see the woman but you see her children cry You see them as they pack her guitar in its case for ever You see them as they collect the spare change they have left You see them as they fold up the blankets she sewed You see them look at the Polaroid picture of them you gave her You know what happened and you give them all your money And you smile as they bless your heart just like their mother used to As you walk back home you cant shake out the realization in your head That you've been walking for the poor woman