By the Light of the Moon

The door slamming in his face, knowing him, was probably well deserved. 

She’s crossed the room now and through the window’s lace curtain I see her curl up in her father’s chair. She puts on quite an act for her patrons, but sometimes, she’s still a little pig-tailed girl, just needing her mother or father. But they, like the whisper of innocence, are gone. 

Damn fool finally realized there’s a reason he keeps coming back to her. And from my vantage it has been one time too many. 

Nightly walks...not always the stroll expected or what one might see…by the light of the moon.