She sits there in the cold
A hooded head
Hair face a wrinkled map
Missing her teeth
She is far from dead

She sits there in the cold
Her tiny frame
Trying to be bold
And she has no one to hold

She sits there in the cold
Her aged eyes
Tell you no lies
Her soul she never sold

She sits there in the cold
Folding her fragile hands
In the folds of her coat
Her life story is hidden in the sands

-EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2012