At 17 she packed her bags and left her sleepy town
while her daughter laid in her crib…
and all she left behind were
a kiss on the forehead and a pair
of knitted booties with a monogram – Ruby…
She took the bus to Vegas
wanting to make it big…
pretending she’d never heard the cry
when she closed the door behind her…
time slipped by like a blur and
all she had to show for the years she was away
were bruises here and there -
souvenirs from the men who made her promises…
a broken heart and a tired soul…
And like the prodigal son
she returned to her sleepy town…
to find comfort…wanting redemption -
to cradle the daughter she left behind
only to be told “Ruby is dead. She died in her sleep.”