The Wonderful Lady

She is not young and pretty and flushed by conceit The wonderful lady the pride of our street To help others out she goes out of her way And ill words of anyone you never hear her say A grandmother four times her husband long dead But she does not dwell in the past nor does she look ahead Her hair silver gray to pride she does not bow One who lives in the moment the here and the now On any poor person's face she would not slam her door At every local charity fund raiser she is to the fore She does not need others her praises to sing Just helping the needy joy to her does bring A true unsung heroine in her own quiet way One I do see often though not every day.