Tessa, About The Old Woman Waving Tissues At Passers-By

She hasn’t lost her marbles.
That broad-faced woman
sitting in a wheelchair
with wispy white hair.
Away from other tissue wavers,
parked day in day out
in the thoroughfare.

This low slung life
facing off nonchalance, a few
pennies, faded green,
in need of vitamins.
Shuffling along back to a
clammy flat–woe begone!


Day 13

“Write a poem about something that happens regularly. Could be something that happens daily, weekly, monthly, every full moon. Whatever the rotation, it happens–like writing poems each day of November.”


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