It was a cart once made for shopping
Now lost and long forgoten
It was a cart once silver and shiny
Now old, disgusting and grimy

She found it there in an unused lot
It was exactly what she had sought
In it she placed her worldly belongings
Including her hopes, her dreams, and longings

She took it with her wherever she went
Hours organizing it where spent
Not one thing about that cart was inept
She knew every scrap of paper, and were it was kept
There was room for her clothes, she had very few
Far less than anyone knew
A spot for the table scraps she managed to find
Who knew you could live on less than a dime

But there in the middle you'll find two old tattered tins
Her most prized possessions where tucked safely within

One tin was for the past and things that are no more
With child like eyes, she'd peek in and explore
For both Joy and Sorrow are contained inside
Amongst the Polaroids of life, a lock of child's hair did reside

The other was for her hopes and dreams
They carried her on, when there seemed to be no means
Even when all the dreams eventually explode and collide
Hope will still be standing strong by her side

Her life as it is now, out here on the streets
Was unexpected, not planned......the memory repeats

A bright sunny day
Soaking up the sun's rays
Both out by their pool
Him sitting at the bar on a stool
But little boys sure do like to giggle
They squirm, and they wiggle

Her out stretched fingers grazed his shirt as he fell
Her screams of anguish no one could quail
As she held his limp body pleading for him to open his eyes
Screaming at the heavens..... WHY.... WHY.... WHY

Now on this block you can find her every day
Pushing that shopping cart as she limps and she sways
Come bare witness to the sad aftermath
One split second, changed a life's path

©Pauline Morris

Alone again, on the same furrowed land
Knees trembling to much to stand
I find my feet firmly planted in quicksand

I'm sinking yet AGAIN
There is no need to pretend
My situation is to much to comprehend

I'm tired of all the abuse
Forced into being a lonely recluse
I once again raise my flag of truce

This suffering is way to much to bear
So I let go, raise my hands into the air
To an uncaring entity, I offer my last prayer

I hear the last toll of the bell
As the tears in my eyes swell
Sinking into my own personal hell

I watch my life slowly dissipate
I listen to the last beat beneath my breastplate
I could no longer carry the weight

©Pauline Morris

Locked up tight in a lover's cage
Easy target for all his rage

Lies being continually fed
I love you was said
Caught in his web

Sweetly tainted words he continued to weave
How was I ever that ****** naive
Blindly continuing to believe

Moved far from home and friends, freedom firmly suppressed
Long sleepless nights and days of no rest
As his crazy obsessions slowly manifest

Walking on eggshells till the next rampage
Locked up tight in an iron cage
Easy prey for all his rage

Never really knowing why or when the next attack
One word taken wrong, my jaw he would jack
Kept constantly pregnant, so I couldn't fight back

I realize from the outside looking in it's hard to construe
People say leave, but they haven't the slightest clue
But here on the inside, he means every death threat that's spewed

They just don't know that type of griping fear
Of keeping your children safe and near
While trying to hide all the violence from their eyes and ears

What if I left, tried to break free
Would he **** me, like he promised with glee
Would the kids survive, there's no guarantee

I know if he raised them, they would surely be twisted  
As adults would they follow in his steps, also be addicted
I fear their view of love would grow so sadistic

I was determined to get my kids out of his hellish cage alive
One day my opportunity did faithfully arrive
Leaving him to rot in his own putrid cell, while watching us thrive

               NEVER AGAIN

Will I be locked up in a lover's cage

               NEVER AGAIN

Will I be an easy target for rage

©Pauline Morris

The wind will blow, the chimes will dance
Be you in the throws of grief, or great romance
Our feelings, nothing but a victim of circumstance

©Pauline Russell

I see the tears welling up in his eyes
As he sets there, with a heavy sigh
These thoughts on his mind heavily weigh
Under his breath I could hear him say
"I'm getting so very forgetful"
"I'm looking so **** pitiful"

He turned 87 a week ago
His age is starting to show
He feels deaths grip closing in
His skin is paper thin
He's always cold even in the sweltering heat of summer
His hearing is almost gone, it's all just mummers
He talks of how his legs don't work so well any more
The act of getting up is such a chore

He has taken to cussing like a sailor
But reads the bible, getting ready to meet his creator
"Growing old in not for the weak or faint of heart
This growing old **** is hard"

©Pauline Morris