A Beggar
B
Barry Middleton
0
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She does not beg for peace,
her needs are much too dear.
A winter wind chills the street,
the leaves have left the trees.
Her clothes are hopeless rags,
her ancient eyes are empty.
She cannot see the sad beauty,
the ashen sky above the city.
She is blind to the bustling park
beside the ghostly cathedral.
She is blind to the artist's wares
that draw the market crowds.
She blesses each passing footstep,
whether for a gift or disregard.
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