A Forlorn Song
She sits alone,
Her skeleton
Pressed, molded,
Wrought by an empty heart.
She sings
A forlorn song,
Purse empty,
Neighbors drift afar,
Afraid to be there,
They point and stare,
Material junk
Seals their hearts.
She wears
A heart heaving
With aches and prayers,
A binding truth and love
She strives to share
But others’ fear
Converts to glare,
And not one steps near.
Copyright © Kathleen Stevens | Year Posted 2012
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