Ragbag Heart

Beggar lady, in the white mist,
They say you carry a ragbag heart,
hidden inside your rattletrap cart.
I wonder, were you once loved and kissed?

Were you once someone's idea of bliss?
Were there babies you cuddled to your breast?
Do you still thrill to a rainbow's arc?
But the only answer is the creak of wobbly cart,

And something wet dropping to her fragile chest,
As slowly she shuffles toward the park,
The pauper lady with the ragbag heart.

by Mary Naylor

Comments (4)

You are a keen observer of the human condition. Your compassion becomes you, Mary. Kindest regards, Sandra
I really, really like this poem. The language used is wonderful. Keep up the good work!
I often wonder these same things about the people I see. Everyone is someone... I love this; thank you.
A sad poem that seems to reach out to the poor and poor of heart.You have worked wonders here.Love Duncan