Lampposts

Late nights she was there

Standing against a lamppost

Exhaled smoke sought out the light

Above that darkest green host

It helped her stand upright

As did most every night

Supporting long legs, once shapely

Now much less so

Trailing down to worn spike heels

Revealing each painted pink toe

She wore barely a skirt

Beneath just as bare a brief top

Heavily mascaraed eyes, looking

Hoping, that a client would stop

No longer the beauty

That once she had been

Now watching traffic drive by

As though she couldn’t be seen

 

Reviews

[Vol]

Dave,
Sounds like every corner of Nebraska Ave. in Tampa, Florida, where the girls were anywhere from fourteen to sixty... If I still lived there and had the time, I'd interview each one and write their poem...
Vol

[Dave Brown]

that would be a lot of writing about a sorry situation
Around here it is homeless pushing shopping carts. these sorry souls would also have a story to tell which could probably keep you writing forever

[Poetic Beauty]

This is a heartbreaking tale. It makes me wonder how she came to be in that situation and that profession. I’m sure there is some sad and sordid tale to it. I feel sad for her because the world is a cruel unkind place with judgmental people.

[Dave Brown]

yes it can be a misery
Actually, at one time back in the old west, and I believe in Japan's early days, that was a recognized profession, however today the sun is shinning and birds are singing
Have a jolly day

[Poetic Beauty]

You have a sunny day as well