The Old Beggar Woman

Her struggling gait and wrinkled face Reflected grief for her dead mate. She’d lost her family at great cost Before she entered society’s lost. I passed her every day on streets And thought she was a deadbeat. She did not have delusions grand And only craved a kindly hand. She limped her way down city streets With no one’s help and nil to eat. She had no home and widely roamed Before she spent her nights alone. Her shrunken frame and knotted mane Hid the fact that she was lame. She struggled for her every breath And every day she cheated death. Ghosts like her die alone And no one hears their final moan. They fade away like apparitions, Victims of Man’s blindered vision.