I saw a woman in tattered clothes.
She wore a necklace made of gold.
I asked her where she got what glittered round her neck.
She said: "I stole it from a rich lady. Then she stole it back. So I stole it from her once more."
We didn't speak against an empty pause.
Then she said: "Life is golden."
Together we laughed with joy filling our poor and tattered souls.
Poetry Pantry #412
17 hours ago