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Read more poems by Carl Sandburg: Carl Sandburg Poems at Poetry X.

The owl-car clatters along, dogged by the echo
From building and battered paving-stone.
The headlight scoffs at the mist,
And fixes its yellow rays in the cold slow rain;
Against a pane I press my forehead
And drowsily look on the walls and sidewalks.

The headlight finds the way
And life is gone from the wet and the welter--
Only an old woman, bloated, disheveled and bleared.
Far-wandered waif of other days,
Huddles for sleep in a doorway,
Homeless.

Added: 16 Jun 2002 | Last Read: 5 Sep 2008 9:10 PM | Viewed: 2672 times

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