The gentle breeze blows,
A mixture of scented wood,
flower,
mildew,
drift to her nose.
Rocks back and forth in her tattered old chair,
On the porch, in isolation, horrid events cause this
Her lair.
Strangers some, and most recent confidant, found their way in this night past,
She remembers feeling helplessness as then ;
Occurences found her aghast.
Wittness to injury, a cause for concern.
She ran around frantic, turn after turn.
Left alone on the floor,
pondering once more...
Privacy s…
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Posted on May 14, 2009 at 3:59am — 1 Comment