Annie’s got a weathered face
I can tell she’s seen her share
Cold troubles and hard times
Folks that didn’t care
I see her in the morning some
Eating her daily bread
I wonder if she’s lonely
If she feels put to the test
I see myself in her stooping walk
And it hurts how much I feel
I’ll pray for her tonight
Maybe pray for her next meal
Annie’s got a broken voice
It’s hard to understand
Annie’s got a broken choice
And doesn’t have big plans
Sometimes I see the child in her
I wonder what she sees
I wonder if she looks and thinks
One day it could be me
Beautiful and thought provoking.
This is scary almost. I fear I may one day be Annie too.
Beautiful and terrible in is truth.
D
Thank you both.
Annie, she was “unsightly”. One that folks didn’t want to look at.
I had the honor of working for a man once, who “saw” her.
Very quietly, and like clockwork, he fed her every morning from his restaurant, before he opened.
Coffee, and rolls.
It wasn’t much, yet it was all she wanted. That and a place to be, for a little while.
It was so little for him to do, as he put it.
I don’t think anyone but me knew. But I’ve always remembered her. And him.