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
Copyright © Erica Mercado | Year Posted 2015
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