Friday, January 12, 2018

Her Weapon

Street lights illuminated
Cold clings to your bones
The only ones outside those that have nowhere to go
Voices are heard above the wind
People wanting to make a quick buck
Others looking for shelter for the night
Some drunk are just angry at the world and the only way to release that pinned up rage is to fight
Up ahead, past George’s liquor store walks a lady
She’s old, frail
God bless you. God bless you
Her whispers are barely audible
Yet everyone knows what she said
She doesn’t stop to talk
Walking is her only mission
Wrapped around one hand is a rosary
Her weapon

No comments:

Post a Comment