It's the night
cold and wet,
she walks
knowing not
where to go.
She's shackled
by incessant
fascination
to let it go.
She strolls on the road,
Oh! Pour soul
she's grieved
by the denial.
Lonely and cold
she walks home,
the gleam of the
Street lights,
the euphoria
of the crowd
make her forlorn.
She walks on
in solitary;
she's shunned
but she's calm.
Just like the sea
after a tide recedes.
She sat on
the bench
of the desolate
Station,
moaned as she
gazed at the sky
the clouds hid
the moon.
But she waits
cause...
tonight she doesn't
want to walk alone;
she waits for the moon
to walk her home...
Copyright@ Cherry A
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