Lonely Grey Lady At Mcdonalds Poem by David Whalen
Lonely Grey Lady At Mcdonalds
Lonely Grey Lady At McDonalds
She has hunched over shoulders, looks under the weather
Grey streaked and unbrushed hair
Wears old worn out shoes and threadbare sweater
Seems lonely and lost, filled with despair
Lips move without sound, hands gesture at no one,
No one’s close by, no one’s around
Lonely old lady, so restless and winsome
Sadness and sorrow seems to surround
Sitting for hours, alone, sipping one coffee
Watching other customers come and go
Peering into other’s lives, staring intently
As if she could know them by watching them so
Two tables over, another lady is watching
The old lady talking to no one, and then,
Rises and walks to her side, smiling and nodding
Gives to her, her own sandwich and then pats her hand
Grey lady accepts it without saying a word
Nods slightly to acknowledge the kindness
Seems nervous and skittish, eyes like a wild bird
Stares into space, gaze distant and mindless
Aura of emptiness abounds within and around her
As she painfully rises and prepares to depart
Her invisible companions, talk and surround her
As she shuffles away, her life in her cart
Grey lady leaves me with a sense of wonder
That some people, so lonely, suffer so much
It seems indifferent fate, shreds some lives asunder
While blessing others with caring families warm touch
Most people live, complacent and uncaring
Of the family and friends that surround them
While many grey ladies exist, gesturing and staring
Sentenced for life in their own private sanctum
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 9:01:46 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Standing at the deli counter of the grocery store Waiting for the order, adding just a slice more. Alongside stands a lady who seems hesitant to choose Which of the temptations, which will lose? Ask me what the hard salami is, I offer her a sample, which the market freely gives. Tasty is her reply as it's gone in a flash But perhaps, the cost is too much cash. Now the slicing attendant starts on the first cut pastrami 'That looks so good' she says, 'I wonder if they'll give a sample to me? ' 'Take a sample of mine' I say. I think it's better than the round Spices and salty brine add something, profound.' 'I like it, ' she says, wiping her chin 'Do you make sandwiches, thick or thin.' 'Add swiss cheese and on thick slices of bread Toast them until the cheese is melted and flavors wed.' 'My what a treat that is for you And for your family too? ' 'No it's just me alone. Got to be going. So long.' Then I made a turn around the store And returned to spy on her standing there. She'd joined another in conversation And soon was given a sample of another taste sensation. Minnie the Moocher was in her element The free food was Heaven sent. s David, your poem reminded me of this event at the local grocery.