She spoke
Of broken hearts
And Sundays,
Gloomy afternoons,
How no one
Really loved her,
It was her body
They yearned to tune,
She spoke
Of loneliness and sadness,
Wandering through
Her rooms,
How no one
Really loved her,
Neath the magic
Of the moon.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
From “Dockside”www.StrangersAndPoetry.com
9:00 AM December 28, 2014
