She stands alone
In her plain white top and baggy black pants
That have seen better days.
Clutching a bag spilleth with tissue packets,
Plaintive eyes yearning for a helping hand.
Three packets of tissue for one dollar please,
Pittance for us, gold to her.
The blur of human motions obscures
The old lady standing sadly and helplessly.
A mote in the morass
A speck in the sea
Just one among many
Of our fellow citizens fallen on hard times.
A fleeting glance we throw her
As we hasten to our abodes for a warm meal
And snug bed.
Old lady with her bag of tissue packs
Standing among the peak hour's commuters.
When I think back, try to recall her face,
Alas!
She is just another footnote
In yesterday's page of memories.
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