Saying Goodbye to the Bag Lady
Poem
Poem
The body lay in a grotesque pose,
thin and bony, ragged clothes.
She had been there for quite a while,
the mouth contorted in a smile,
and in this darkened alleyway
where few would pass on any day,
she wasn’t noticed,
if she was
no one bothered,
no one’s loss.
Only flotsam, never missed,
another statistic on the list,
lying there so stiff and cold,
unwashed, unloved, uncared for, old.
There would be no one now
to mourn for this poor soul, sad, forlorn,
sleeping rough these twenty years,
there are no friends,
no sorrowed tears.
But once she was a woman proud
before she donned this sodden shroud,
and some say mental health was all,
while others say ’twas alcohol.
Whichever way, it all went viral,
leading to a downward spiral.
You see that bag, it holds the life
of someone’s mother, friend and wife.
So, move along now clear the way,
nothing else to really say.
Right now Sergeant, clip that tag,
let’s get this body in the bag.