Walking slowly down the street,
Pushing a grocery cart along,
Intently searching in trash cans,
She hummed a merry little song.

Life for her cannot be easy,
Calling a cardboard box her home,
Looking for food to soothe her hunger,
Dumpster to Dumpster, she moves along.

We thumb our noses as we pass by,
Hoping she does not look our way,
Digging through trash is a disgrace,
The sight of her just ruins our day.

We ride along in a fancy car,
Home in an upscale neighborhood,
Natural gas to keep us comfortably warm,
A fireplace with plenty of wood.

God has certainly been good to us,
Giving showers of blessings untold,
Yet we pass the bag lady without a thought,
As to how she will stay warm in the cold.

Is that rain I see upon the window?
I see no clouds in the clear blue skies.
I hear the sound of a broken heart sobbing,
Tis not the rain, but tears from Jesus’ eyes.

His heart is very heavy,
At the sight, He sees below.
He has given us so many blessings,
Yet through us, His love does not show.

Gayle Davis
July 7, 2003 ©
Revised June 2005©