The woman on the stair
Desperation seemed to hang over her,
imbuing every smile and joke with the stain of falsity.
People wondered about her sanity, so did she
She spoke of her old life so eloquently
You could see she was trying, to stop dying
But life on the edge must be tiring
The street is no place for a person like her
But there she sat, on the stair, over there
Was it a series of unlucky events
That made her lose her way?
Did she have love? Back in the day
Before she went astray.
There’s no one else here – does anyone care
I feel a rising sense of despair
At the world,,at myself, at whatever brought her here
To be buried in haste on this cold day
With nothing left to give away.