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She’s sitting on a cardboard box alone,
Begging for pennies, a place of her own
Mister won’t you stop acting like a clone,
Look at Miss Bag Lady-your eyes aren’t numb
Shivering humanity, stop acting cold,
Take out some time and prove that I am wrong
“Do good for others,” as Gandhi once told,
Show her some love, I’m sure it won’t take long
Miss Bag Lady mumbles, she trembles and blurts,
While newspapers flutter on awkwardly by
You look deep inside of her, where it most hurts,
Then let out a cry as your fears subside
She hands you a crumpled up, delicate bag,
And in it the world rests on a white flag
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Instant Vintage
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