Shaky Lady Poem by Shelley Buffitt

Sally Ann designs the clothes

That she models on the concrete,

Moving her backwards

Down a one way street.

Home Sweet Home

For the beggar gypsy

Is where she counts your money

in her Penthouse suite

Watch her tremble

as you pass her by

Reaching for your sympathy

in clever disguise.

Contradiction in perception

Is her specialty

What she isn't

is exactly

what she appears to be

Her pitiful illusion

will only rob you blind

As she drinks champagne

from her brown bag of lies

Watch her quiver

till she reaches the door

to the life of luxury

you're paying for

Shaky Lady

You're making me old

Shaky Lady

Are you really that cold?

What ever happened to your honesty?

What made your pride

Turn into greed?

Shaky Lady

Everybody knows

Your hands only want

What our pocket books hold.

You bank on our emotion

So you can wear gold

Shaky Lady

You're making me old.