Her face is lined
Her brow is taut
Her jaw is weak
From battles fought

Her bags are large
Her feet are worn
Her nose is bent
Her looks forlorn

Her eyes are dim
Her cheeks are white
Her clothes are rags
Her lips are tight

She never speaks
She never smiles
Does not bemoan
The countless miles

She struggles past
One more step on
No-one knows
Where she comes from

Her heart is solid
Sinking rock
Life is empty
Out of stock

All she has
Is bags and time
No love, no hope
One endless mime.

 
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