A Bench In the Rain

Sitting on a city street bench in the rain; Raindrops disguise the tears upon her face; People rushing by, umbrellas raised, Hurrying to find a dryer place. In her hands the paper sags and drips; The words may fade but not the prognosis; How will she tell her seven year old son, That yesterday’s birthday will be her last one? Sitting on a city street bench in the rain; Lacking the resolve to head back home again; A single mother burdened with the news, Her fight against this monster she will loose. Thirty-six candles were on her cake; She wished the first tests were a mistake; Her son helped ensure they all blew out; Now she sits in the rain and wants to shout. Sitting on a city street bench in the rain; The hoards passing by pay her no mind; The words to say to her darling little boy The crying, weeping lady cannot find. Sitting on a city street bench in the rain…