Last night I sat in my vehicle,
facing out into the street.
The pair on the bench by the shop-front
were discussing his years of deceit.
I couldn't hear what they were saying
but aware of what would be said,
and wanted to give them privacy
but watched like a voyeur instead.
Concern for that dear girl's breaking heart
and watching the tears on her face,
I observed that rear-view reflection,
caring about what took place.
I watched his defiant gestures,
watched him admit defeat,
watched, as she finally walked away
when he fell, contrite, at her feet.
But I'm glad she had the strength last night
for it made him face the truth;
she has borne his addiction too many years,
wasted the best of her youth.
He is not on his own, we will help him;
he's defeated those demons before,
with courage and conviction born of faith,
he can win his heroin war.
© 2018 cherryk
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