All Crumpled Up

Crippled
All crumpled up.
But still doing her job, her sign out.
A shopping cart - she holds the side 
And with her other hand, she grasps the cane.
And wobbles.
And the cars pass by.
“Where are you going miss?” I ask.
“Do you need some help?”
And for a moment, she forgets,
And I point to the sign.
It has flopped over
“Oh yes,” she says.  “That’s right.”
I hand her a few dollars.
“Do you need to get somewhere?”
“No,” she says.  “He’s coming back, and I must stay.”
“My father is coming back.”
“Ok,” I say.  “Ok,” and walk away.
I look back over my shoulder,
And the sign is still folded over
And she stands there 
One hand on the cart 
And one on the cane.
All crumpled up
And still in pain.
And the people pass by as she waits.​