This is the homeless lady's table

At the chic fil-a.

She comes in with her wheeled file case

Like a legal aid, or a lawyer.

She carefully looks thru to find

The right notebook for the day.

Its tabs are color coded

And clamped with matching color coded clips.

And then she proceeds to do her 

Hidden word puzzles, large print,

Or suduko, or she takes her stickers

And her glitter glue, and makes a picture

On the lined notebook paper.

She's 72, she told me.

And someone usually buys her a coke

And something to eat.

(Although I think it's usually always me who does that.)

And someone usually wakes her up

If she falls asleep.

I never do that! I would never dare!

But the person who does always tells her

It looked like she was about to fall out of her chair.

But she does some lovely work

That the world will never see,

And she keeps it so organized,

So neatly arranged,

And when she leaves the chic fil-a,

The world turns away

So we also can't see 

Where else the poor woman

May eat, and sleep

During the rest of the day, 

And the night.

-jenn