Author: Al Aaraaf PM
All preconceived notions are not always right.Rated: Fiction T - English - Mystery/Spiritual - Words: 411 - Published: 05-04-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2912695
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I see you sitting there alone
No place to run, no place to go
Your shadow is your only companion
So many people you left abandoned
Your fingers are intertwined together
Oblivious to people escaping the weather
The rain pours down, then a clap of thunder
Lightning strikes as I begin to wonder
Who did this to this poor girl?
Mixed emotions begin to swirl
Look at her face, she's lost her glow
Only a man can make her feel that low
She lifts her head and fixes her hair
Putting the strand that fell back there
Behind her ear, tucked back as she
Watches the ground as quiet as can be
For many minutes maybe even an hour
I watch her sitting alone in the rain shower
Then my curiosity gets the better of me
I must talk to this once great, now fallen beauty
With great quickness I make my way in the rain
To the other side of the street, am I insane?
No, get it together, just ask her quick
"Excuse me miss, do you want to get sick?"
She makes no attempt to lift her head
It was as if she was already dead
"Please miss, Come with me inside"
"No thank you sir, I'm waiting for my ride"
She lifts her head and looks me deep in the eyes
Her hand grabs my own, as a part of me dies
"You see, you're the first person to stop today
Everyone else just wandered along on their way
But because you were so kind as to see what's wrong
I'll put in a good word, but now you must go, so long!"
With that I turn and walk away as she wished
But there was something that I must have missed
I turn to look back over my shoulder one last time
The beautiful, sad woman who had lost her mind
Was no longer sitting where she had once been
The rain now stopped and never started again
Who was she? To whom would she put in a good word?
These lingering thoughts were the only things I heard
Forget about it before you drive yourself crazy
Strangely enough, I still feel her presence with me
A phone rings; I pick it up, "hello?"
"Are you ready son? It's your time to go"
To who did this ominous voice belong?
'Tis the Devil, not God, you all were wrong.