Louise

Is there ever a chart, to give us a line, bring food to no marks, forget about trouble, a trolley suits her fine, works without gloves, she never walks far, like so many other times, each step a shard, a cross for a move, to where they drink wine, she gives them a shove, a deal done at Primark, the waste is a crime, life so stark, she clears up above, the rest of the night, why worry about love, in a supermarket yard, lovely face tight, a spirit with some spark, she asks why ?