The Fallen Woman

She shrank away,
down grey blighted streets,
where the red-bricked terraces
shrank back in surprise;
and all the signs on shops
looked aged and faded.
Leaves ushered assorted admonishments;
trees stood dismissive and unearthed;
a shopkeeper raised his criss-cross brow:
for where do we go after birth?
She lay in her abandoned place,
memory tight in closed fist;
towering walls etched her plight
as she lay, screaming,
and all those many faces,
looked wearisome and jaded.
The wind buffeted her pain and loss,
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