As unkempt as a weed filled garden,
as prickly as any wild rose.
She stands guard over her turf.
Staking her claim too all,
in an abandoned garage which
defies the wind to implode.
Midnight looters down the alley
Stealthy moving to the mystic music,
emitting from the midnight train.
Accompanied by their evening feline friends.
Half remembered youthful memories,
slowly slipping into nothingness.
Somewhere in the aging teardrops,
of a darkening, gloomy twilight.
