Old Lady Wobblecane
Lives in a shack
With a tumbedown front
And a caved-in back.
Old Lady Wobblecane
Hasn’t much hair
But she tosses it back
As if it were there;
Shakes it in the sunlight
As if it were gold
And a maid and her beauty
Could not grow old.
She looks out under lashes
Long fallen away,
And mumbles a song
Of a long-gone day.
Sometimes when you greet her
She’ll meet your stare
With a flash of white teeth
No longer there.
And sometimes in passing
You’ll see her scuttle in
With the cruel years upon her
As heavy as sin.
Old Lady Wobblecane
Lives all alone,
With a head like a feather
And a heart like a stone.