She is not young and pretty and flushed by conceit
The wonderful lady the pride of our street
To help others out she goes out of her way
And ill words of anyone you never hear her say
A grandmother four times her husband long dead
But she does not dwell in the past nor does she look ahead
Her hair silver gray to pride she does not bow
One who lives in the moment the here and the now
On any poor person's face she would not slam her door
At every local charity fund raiser she is to the fore
She does not need others her praises to sing
Just helping the needy joy to her does bring
A true unsung heroine in her own quiet way
One i do see often though not every day.
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