She walks along the railroad track
Bedraggled being old and drawn
Dead of night skin cold as death
Bare foot beauty weary worn
Moonlight bathing footsteps shadowed
Heavy heart devoid of love
Wanting feeling lonely angel
Touch of man to warm her blood
Endless nights she wanders waiting
Head hung low in fear and shame
Needing knowing tears unending
Taunting spirits call her name.
All to soon the moonlight fading
Wretched beauty turns to dust
Returning once the day has ended
Haunting souls born of mistrust.
Reah Roberts ©2009
Tales From Behind A Cushion 
When reading this poetry, I have a feeling of sadness because loveless or love lost. For me, this poem is very well: rhythm, search of words. (I d’nt speak english very much because I am French and anybody knows French speaks french only).
I read myself poetry [Le lis et le chardon, published by
Editions Elzévir, Paris] …
This is very pretty, rather haunting and sad. And thought provoking with a need to be reread, pondered again.
–Pearl