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,