Dreary Tuesday, 2 a.m

Driving home through Farrow's Glen

In my headlights, the shifting haze

Becomes a figure drenched with rain

Staring into

Eyes that speak a silent plea

I surrender

To my curiosity

She says her name is Marigold

She has to find her way back home

For she is lost and all alone

Out on this wicked night so cold

Worn and pale this mystery child

Offers me a thankful smile

Quietly she points the way

Up the hill to a rusty gate

There beyond

I see the headstonеs through the trees

Turning I find

There's no onе sitting next to me

She said her name was Marigold

She had to find her way back home

For she was lost and all alone

Out on this wicked night so cold