In a scene straight from Frost :
‘Between the woods and the frozen lake’
Wondering where it’s all going to lead…
The guns, the rage, the hurt,
Of not being master
Of your own fate!
She looks up, wet-cheeked
At the enormous, all knowing sky
As if, any moment it’s going to burst into speech!
The evening turns to dusk
A sweet scent of jasmine fills her
She’s still there, looking for crumbs of hope,
In the twilight
The glow must hold some meaning,
For she comes away
Her cat feels it
As she strokes his furry head
Purring away in pleasure.
Smeetha, responding to Prompt 2.