Shopping Carts Poem by joy olree

Old lady barely alive,
everything she owns
on 4 wheels.
Stainless steel
rusted cage
handle on the back.
Wind or rain,
snow or heat,
home for the homeless.

Thieves waiting to
steal this last hope.
Insurance a joke,
hospital not an option,
walk until death.

A potter’s field for her,
card board box,
for a head stone.
Gone and forgotten,
never really known.
Just one in millions,
stepped on and left.

See no evil,
hear no evil,
speak no evil,
selective blindness.

Did not see,
did not know,
can’t be held
responsible.