Elizabeth
She walks and
talks at the same time
usually
muttering to herself
or shouting her opinions
at anyone who cares to listen
Her shambling
gait
and
aimless wandering
daily through the precinct
an habitual routine
a normal fixture
and commuter landmark
for regular travellers
Dirty and dishevelled
unkempt
and unwashed
her florid face still lit with a smile
remnant of a faded beauty
Swaddled now in
layers of clothing
thick
coat and floppy hat
cardigans and jumpers
skirts and tights
gloved hands and fingers
gripping, grasping tightly
the string-crossed bags
which she carries with her
wherever she goes
She asks for
nothing
demanding
only time to listen
never seeking shelter
but slides off somewhere every night
living by her own her lights
by her logic and on her wits
A modern crazy
lady
seemingly
not unhappy
but sometimes over-loud
creating an awkward nuisance
which passers-by would ignore
if only she did not make them feel
so much more uncomfortable
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