Nighttime Vigil

The poverty she lives in,

has made her old before her time.

She pulls up her chair,

to the window –

for her nighttime vigil.

Outside neon lights are flashing,

somewhere behind the restaurant lights,

couples are dining,

in the bars people are rejoicing,

somewhere they are even dancing.

The glare of the subway station,

high up on the el tracks,

practically opposite her window,

in comes the rumbling train,

the floor shakes and plaster falls.

She hears happy voices,

angry shouts

and cursing from below.

This always makes her so low,

remembering her lost love

and how she should have never,

left him behind,

instead fighting for what should have been,

a love till the end of time.

Running away had brought her,

the kind of life that made her heart,

remember and ache every time,

her nighttime vigil began.

Often she doesn’t turn on the single light bulb,

nothing to see,

but a threadbare floor,

cracked ceiling and walls.

Better to let the light come in from the night,

she longs to lay down,

close her eyes and dream –

of homes with manicured lawns.

Where gentle tree-lined streets,

brought joy through all the seasons

and people who cared.

The night that she was queen of the prom,

but all the sounds from the street,

keep her from dreaming

and she sits until the show gets boring –

finally crying herself to sleep.

The alarm brings her to reality,

another day has come

and she goes down,

the steps into the city throng,

wondering where it had all gone wrong.

But one day she knew,

that she would find a love true,

who would take her away,

make her his queen,

make all these nighttime vigils –

finally disappear.

 

Rasma Raisters
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Rasma Raisters

I am a poet and writer. I write for many different sites online. I have two published books of poems on Amazon - Poetic Thoughts Fly and On the Wings of Love.

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