This lady was a tramp

She watched the dirty water going down the drain.. it gurgled as it gushed like a man in pain.. and when the bath was empty it left a tide mark stain with a gritty, grubby griminess grain

This lady was a tramp and she lived on the streets but tonight she would be in a bed with white cotton sheets.. like one of the snooty, hoity toity folks from London’s elites that snubbed their noses at her as she sat slouched on the seats

But today of alldays she was taken into care from a passerby who couldn’t leave her there..slumped in agonising pain on a wooden chair..as she clung onto her rosemary beads whispering a prayer

Homelessness had hit her hard now she hadn’t her youth.. yet she was well used to critisism from the uncaring uncouth.. when they needed to make a call from a telephone booth.. she’d lost count of the nights she’d spent in those things but now she was too long in the tooth..