Walking slowly towards me, she comes
Dressed in a dark raincoat
Struggling with two large bin bags of clothes
For the charity shop on the corner
Too heavy for her tired arms
She sways unbalanced
Through the rainfall
Invisible to the rest of the world
All these years
And if she fell now
No one would notice
But I would cradle her small head
In the crook of my arm
Lifting her damp white hair
From the streaming pavement
Looking into her glassy eyes
Watching riverlets form in her unknown face
Feeling the last of her warmth
Flow away over the curb
And down along the side of the road.
Constant Voice 