One More Time

I asked her

last year 

why she stands at the corner of the street 

each morning.

Cold, hungry,

shivering.

She wouldn't quite turn towards me

but I came back again.

I asked her 

last month

why she stands at the corner of the street

each morning

hot, hungry,

scorched.

She shifted in her worn brown shoes

but wouldn't quite turn towards me.

I came back again.

I asked her

last week

why she stands at the corner of the street

each morning.

Lonely, hungry,

afraid.

She raised her head, 

drew in a breath-

--but stopped,

and wouldn't quite turn towards me. 

One more time.

I asked her 

yesterday

why she stands at the corner of the street

each morning...

she turned to me

"it's a hard life."

then smiled.