She pushes herself to the corner.

She crouches, bunches herself into a ball.

She hopes to warm herself in the biting cold.

She steels herself as the frozen glacial hand of frost, wrenches her from her safe corner.

She tries to ward off the firm icy grasp of winter that shakes and rattles her mercilessly.


The humid mist of indifference and rejection seeps into every fold of her garment.

It chills her to the bone.

She struggles to warm her deadened body as her heart cries for life.

The howling desolate wind of lack and “barely making ends meet” pushes her to the ground.

They devour the last morsel of hope she’d held dearly in her bosom.


She doesn’t give in to despair.

She gathers herself painfully.

She struggles back to her feet.

She shakes like a flag in a tornado.

She is unsteady like a boat in the stormy sea.


She painstakingly  with an iron will, gathers the crumbs of hope strewn around her.

She vows to herself that no matter what it takes she will persevere.

She will nurture the frail, fragile bird called hope.

She will allow it to soar high again.

Her life depended on it.