The Little Girls of Midnight

The demons of sleeplessness are upon me.
Try as I might I cannot make them flee.
The white pearls of Midnight melting.
In my mouth their way of helping.

I find myself alongside a car.
Talking with friends inside that are.
Really unknown to me.
A rumbling in the distance like the sea.

A gray-litten fog surrounds us.
Biting, wet and cold thus.
I stand within its embrace.
Cold water runs down my face.

Tiny voices tinkling in the fog.
Catches the attention of my dog.
I turn and see three tattered little ones.
Ahead one of them runs.

She speaks to me in an occidental flavor.
Tiny and pleading with a little waver.
Her way of talking to strangers.
Her idea of evading the dangers.

 My reply to her a bit too curt.
I can see my words have hurt.
Tears welling up in her fathomless eyes.
Despair escapes her in an anguished sigh.

And I feel like a spear’s in my heart.
And I feel like it’s my ill-gotten start.
On this little girls tears.
On this little girls fears.

And so I tell her I was only kidding.
And her eyes are damaged and forbidding.
I think to myself she’s so damaged.
And I see her dirty red sweatshirt so ravaged.

Her little fingers black from digging and pawing.
Through garbage cans and dumpsters clawing.
For food, for life, her existence in this world.
This dirty-faced freckled little girl.

And I touch her red unkempt hair.
A badge of no parental care.
And who could throw this pretty child away?
And who could let her suffer in this way?

She is so tiny and frail.
And her blue eyes so pale.
And I open my arms to all three.
And they all hug my legs like I’m a tree.

And I can hear their crying in muted whispers.
Tiny, disposable humans by someone’s blunders.
And I hug them as good as I am able.
These three in no one’s fables.

The girl with blue eyes looks up at me.
“Don’t forget us mister” she pleas.
Suddenly I’m removed from this place.
And I’m back in my time in space.

I won’t forget The Little Girls of Midnight.
That haunted my dreams last night.
The wistful, soiled faces of plight.
That remains ghost-like in my sight.

 The Little Girls of Midnight.
Will remain with me every night.
For now unto eternity.
The little ones who suffer no amenities.

Dave Proffitt
2:26 pm

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