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…
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