Dreams of the Good Life

The shreds of old sodden clothing hung loosely from her frail body. Her feet, bloody, sore, and blistered, moved in painfully slow movements. Her mouth that once smiled with all the confidence the world could ever know Now drooped at the corners and dirt clung to her lips. Her hair, once long, smooth, and black, now hung in clumps And dandruff covered the crown of her head. Shaking her dented tin cup in a frenzy, she hobbled towards the crowd of people. Turning to see her rail-thin frame staggering towards them, The crowd disbursed, not wanting to be near her. “Spare change,” she said, her voice raspy and hoarse. Their cold stares made her shiver but she moved on, Desperate for something that might help her. Her life now depended on the kindness of others, Kindness that seemed to be fading fast. These people think I’m no good, she would often think. Sitting near a trash can fire for warmth She would pray for some type of miracle. Life seemed dreary and hopeless from every angle. When sleep finally claimed her at night She often dreamt of the life she once knew. The good life, full of love, joy, and warmth But after the death of her husband things seemed to deteriorate. Oh William, do you see what’s become of your beloved wife? Nothing but a slight glimmer of hope and faith in God Kept her from giving up on life altogether.