A dusty, nondescript town
On the border of Oblivion
And Destitution,
The locals are careful
To avoid all outsiders,
Keeping to themselves
As they pool
Their miseries
And stare out from faces
Tired and worn
From dead
And dying dreams.
But, every now and then,
One rises from amongst them
And grasps
At the possibilities
That thrive
Just beyond the limits
Of hardscrabble life.
With strong, straight shoulders
She strides away, resolute,
Leaving behind
All doubt and self-defeat
As she embraces the promise
That awaits her.