Wild Woman on Borrowed Time

Wild Woman spent years
walking down a street
and falling in a hole.
The same street.
The same hole.

Then came the middle years
when, mercifully, she stopped falling
long enough to look around
and enjoy the scenery.

Now she walks with a cane,
slowly, tap tap tapping
like the beat of a little tomtom,
or a heart on borrowed time,
looking up,
seeing all the beauty that ever was,
and ever will be,
and smiling.


Day Two at Toads: Taking It to the Streets. 

The prompt is to write a poem one could use as street art. But this month, Wild Woman is dictating. I don't argue, I just write down what she says. That's the rules. LOL.