The Brag

I am known by sight in the neighbourhood
to shopkeepers, baristas, cab drivers.
There I go, there I come, in likelihood
alone, up and down the road, in all weathers.
I am on smiling terms with hosts of people.
There she blows with her silver hair, they grin,
staking out a beanrow, spouting the Bible.
Roadsweepers chat, guards greet me at the station.
Some call me lady, auntie, mammie – ask me
how I’m doing, endorse me with endearments,
watch my footing for me, rescue my bag.
Caregivers all! Small wonder if I brag
a little, graced with such acknowledgements
and such a large extended family.