Curbside (first published on my blog October 2014)

She wore the results of last night’s fight

On her face as badges of honor

Sitting on the curb, she is waiting

Waiting for a ride, an escape

Away from this life

Neatly tucked away in a small corner apartment

The sun beats down upon her back

Rays pounding until her body was sweating

And she wanted to cry

No one to call and nowhere to go

She sits outside a church

Hoping for charity

Thinking she should get some religion

Then at least she could confess her troubles

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt

Knowing she had nowhere to go

Except a curb outside a church

Discarded, like a five year old sofa

Permanently sunken in the middle

Or an old office chair missing a wheel

So always teetered to one side

She slumped forward

Watching the traffic speeding by

Hope lingering on her face

Tucked in the wrinkles around her eyes

Maybe, she needed a sign

With HELP scribbled in big bold black letters

Then maybe she could find something more than this curb

Maybe she could find her escape

Her way out of this cycle

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