Sunday, May 1, 2016


Softly treading,
she's learned to make no sound.
She walks alone at twilight
a perfect end to an imperfect day

Through the saffron glow
she watches
streetcar delights with men named

Behind closed doors they kiss their
wives but out here they're happy
Something she has never known
A closed book in a life of regret

She envies their candor

The mist makes soft waves
enveloping her in warmth
and comfort
Silent reflections of a dream

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