The Woman In A Lonely House Poem by Cheryl L. DaytecYañgot

She lives in a house stripped of laughter
Its once gaudy yard shed its luster
Sadness moved in some long time ago
A lonely twist the world cannot know
Happiness left no trace of itself
Except in the photographs in the shelf
From time to time, nostalgia plucks them out
When the truth of joy she starts to doubt

She dances on the old boulevards
Where laughter was not extravagance
Remembering the dead mirth brings pleasure
In the midst of regrets beyond measure
She imagines dwelling in a house
Sans the quiet tears of a battered spouse
She mourns deceased goals, immense losses
Yet she stays and hangs from harsh crosses

The church, neighbors, even family
Say exodus is but debauchery
Ever since the beginning of time
Eve and her daughters had to bear grime
She fears society’s stern rebuke
She hears it from the songs of a brook
The howling wind commands her to stay
The open gate stands to block her way.

The mistress seems to have lost her mind
Her sanity- who will help her find?
At night, facing the full moon she dreams
Of happiness flowing in wide streams
Too the indulgent house where she lives
Finds distressing all her distrait spells
For dreams she stops from coming to life
Will not bail her out from ill and strife

But who are we to judge her cravenness
When we too pushed her in her abyss?
Our silence and blindness to her misery
Convicts us for her mammoth tragedy.