She was a Broadway queen, beaten and left out in the snow.
A child of fairgrounds and whistles.
I was a convert of what I should not know,
Going all sorts of places I should not go.
A bloody mouth and an empty hand was the result
Of the scuffle in the alley.
I was jogging home, with no shoes or keys.
I found her lying alone.
She wept as I stooped low towards her
And she mumbled of his general direction.
She said he had run off towards the intersection.
I quietened her as best I could.
I told her if I could last the chase I would.
But I had sold my shoes for some stale food and another injection.
To get me through the day.
I did not recognize this Broadway star.
Her eyes did not register to me.
Her accent did not ring any truths.
Her grand clothes I could not see.
She held out a gesture to help her up.
I did as she requested by holding her hand.
I felt a tingle through my bones.
And even though we were more different than snow is to sand.
I did not know it.
I asked if she required police assistance.
But she strongly advised against it.
I offered to take her to a little place I knew close by.
She stared at me through a swollen eye
And asked me my intention.
Did I crave some money or press attention.
I said no and so we left together.
I had a tea, she had whatever she liked.
Sun glasses on to hide the damage done.
She asked me what I did, I said I sung.
She said that she did too.
An hour passed and she said she had to go.
But said to call on by sometime
And handed me a number and address to go.
The house was on the darker side of town.
With all the streetlights on and the pavements down.
A land of milk and honey indeed.
Her house was larger than I could have possibly dream and
The Broadway queen was waiting.
She came to greet me and I could not believe.
The folks whose acquaintance she offered me.
So I made my excuses to leave
And left while I still could.
I felt so bad for the Broadway queen in such lovely large homes.
But never were two so different characters from two such different poems.
I could not do it justice.
I never saw that powdered face again.
Everyone said I must be insane.
To turn down a Broadway star.
But back I would not go.
To me she remains, beaten, lying in the snow.
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any criticism would be much appreciated. Thanks
