Broken Shards

At the corner of the street,
Under some stranger’s eave,
Dressed in mismatched tatters,
With a ripped-out sleeve,
Sitting on the bundled woods,
Covered by a torn sheet.

While the cold wind blows,
She holds the sheets more tight,
Bulb glows over her head,
For her, only source of light,
Otherwise, apart from loneliness,
Also a gift was the dark night.

Tightly clenched her right hand,
Placed on her own heart,
As if whatever it holds,
She can’t dare to be apart,
Was it money in her fist,
Or last bit of her sweetheart.

She looks across the path,
A fire on the other side,
Face lights up with pure smile,
As if things were fine beside,
For a moment her fist loosens,
Enough for shards to shine.

Before her smile fully blooms,
Before she lets shards to fall,
A chilly blast of wind follows,
Chilly enough for her to tremble,
Fire went from flames to smoke,
Unknown if they will rise from fall.

She tightens her hold on shards,
Way harder than was before,
Tears at the edge of her eyes,
But remembering the night ahead,
She gives a dry but bright smile,