She drifted toward our group <br />On a scent of wintergreen <br />And mint, and some cheap cologne, <br />The name of which was 'Unknown.' <br /> <br />I realized <br />She was all our dreams <br />Gone bad, but really, <br />She was rather sad, <br />Pitiful in her homeless estate. <br /> <br />She sang softly, to herself, <br />In a sing-song, off-key tone, <br />Talking to someone else, <br />Though we saw she was alone. <br /> <br />Her old shabby, torn-up coat, <br />And the woolen scarf at her throat, <br />Was all she had to keep her warm <br />And safe from all harm, <br /> <br />But she wore a red-rosed hat, <br />And cheap jewelry of this and that <br />Pinned to her coat, <br />And at her throat. <br /> <br />As she passed us by, <br />All we could do was sigh... <br />And think, 'There, but for <br />The Grace of God, <br />Go I.' <br /> <br /> <br />(7/12/07)<br /><br />Scarlett Treat<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poor-lily/
