Poems ✍️

A lamp post, dark, dismal, barren street,
waiting in anticipation for the dealers wheels.
Tattered clothes, stiletto heels on weary feet.

A face torn, by the wrath of time,
no family, no loved ones to call her own.
No idea, where she will sit to dine.

Headlights slowly come to a stop,
she reaches out with quivering hands,
wondering all the while, could this be a cop.


Written Germain
By: Melvina Oct.15,2008