Marigold


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Dreary Tuesday 2am
Driving home through Farrow’s Glen
In my headlights the shifting haze
Becomes a figure drenched with rain

Staring into eyes that speak a silent plea
I surrender to my curiosity

She says her name is Marigold
She has to find her way back home
For she is lost and all alone
Out on this wicked night so cold

Worn and pale this mystery child
Offers me a thankful smile
Quietly she points the way
Up the hill to a rusty gate

There beyond I see the headstones through the trees
Turning I find there’s no one sitting next to me

She said her name was Marigold
She had to find her way back home
For she was lost and all alone
Out on this wicked night so cold

(c) 2019 Gavin Goszka

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