Midnight: <br />The moon plays with his vision. <br />The Rebel, his mind wearied from anger, <br />Holds his emotion bottled within him. <br />Katie appears, coming out of the shadows. <br />The sight of her repulses him, <br />Her face caked with makeup, <br />Prepared for a party, as always. <br />Inside, he scorns her, <br />Addicted to a drugged life, <br />Temporal pleasures. <br />But she is tied to him, now. <br />She cannot go back. <br /> <br />The cold wind howls down the street. <br />Rebel and Katie huddle <br />In the warmth of the bus stop. <br />The bus rumbles to a stop, <br />The doors slide hesitantly open. <br />-The future awaits.- <br /> <br />The bus whisks them <br />To the train station, <br />And their new world. <br /> <br />The Rebel has a lot on his mind: <br />He sits, silent, <br />A thousand thoughts rolling in his head. <br />At his side, seated by the window, <br />Katie rests her head on his shoulder. <br />She is cold, shivering; <br />But he shrugs her off: <br />There is no warmth in him, <br />For he is driven by the cold. <br /> <br />Dejected, she leans against the cool window. <br />In her mind, <br />She is suddenly alone, afraid; <br />He cannot see it, <br />But he has hurt her. <br />-The first, but not the last.-<br /><br />James Grengs<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/prodigal-part-3-station/
