The Welcome

She lures everyday
Inside the walking men.
She stops just to say
I’ll be here now and then.
She ignores all the pain
Caused by her ill grace.
Men hide from the rain,
As women run the chase.
For men feel the attack
But women all the fear.
Both something may lack,
For she feels welcome here.
Solitude, you must come in;
I’ve told her more than once,
And she will not depart
Unless I let her die.

Copyright © 2008

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About B. Meza

Writing is liberating.
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