Bag Lady

The first time I saw you
Elegance was your statement
A true prom queen freshly dipped
In sacrificial arterial bleeding blood,
Dripping sequins of rubies and garnets
In your wake

Then, many suitors tried to court your
Single minded ways, queuing up
To be the first to take your hand
And lead you onto that dance floor
A night to be remembered for sure

With a tiara to match that of Princess Di
Or Boadicea in there time of favour with
Their royal families and the common people

Now a Sainsbury’s bag covers your matted scalp
Once flowing golden locks reaching down to
Your oh so thin womanly waist

But you still have on that red dress
Now looking worn and decayed,

Like the once well set teeth which
Used to glow like translucent pearls
In that stunning face of yours

Covering your rain washed skin
And exposing a life on the streets

And for suitors now I see a different
Walk of life as you sit there on that
Park bench with winos sharing their
Half drunk bottles of diamond white
And smoking dog ends found on high
Street sidewalks, staining your once well
Manicured fingers now golden brown
And black.

As I finish my sandwich, I think to
My self you must not have taken
The limo home that night after the school
Dance
But took a cab downtown to the bright
Lights of the city gutter.