The Woman

The woman walks along the path,
Feeling confused and alone within the extended shrouds of darkness

She looks from each side as if there was one over-seeing her existence,
And her long, dark hair slashes at her face with each turn of her head
And with each look she pants with breaths full of panicking,
And her half-full, saliva-soaken lips tremble,
And her steps sequence into sloppy stumbling

Her soft, pretty blue eyes are guarded by awaiting tears

Her temperature follows that of the air around her as it drops,
And her cheeks turn from a regular flesh tone to a shade of red similar to that of a rose,
And her panicked breaths show as the faint puffs blow from between her lips

It seems her clothing is failing it's purpose to keep her warm,
As she wears a heavy, long scarf colored in solid black,
And a thick-cotton jacket to cloak her,
And sweat pants that barely cling to the sides of her legs,

She stumbles more to find a speck of light,
A light she desperately needs