the bag lady


with the treasures she found in the alley
she wobbles down the street
through the holes in her shoes
you can see her callused feet

her hair is all matted and tangled
she's covered with rags and bags
her shopping done from the garbage
placed in a cart that she drags

no one knows what her eyes have seen
no one knows the thoughts she entertains
no one knows the dreams she's forsaken
or the dreams she still maintains

i pray to the Lord that made me
to comfort the poor bag lady
may riches fill her bags
and good clothing replace her rags

of late no one has seen her
some say that she passed away
with the streets as her only home
she has nowhere else to stay

her mumbling no longer heard
the sight of her no longer seen
the streets are missing someone
that's found in nobody's dream

it's easy for us to forget
things we haven't seen to remember
how she suffered in the cold of winter
how she felt Christmas day in december

i pray to the Lord that made me
to comfort the poor bag lady
in heaven may riches fill her bags
and a white radiant rob exchanged for her rags


copyright 1983