Tumbleweed

Based on a real life situation when I heard a woman crying in the hall after her purse had been stolen. She was so desperate for money and isolated, even having her ID taken too. Uprooted from safety.

Tender flesh and fragile bone,
she weeps in the hallway all alone.

Stolen cards, cash and ID too
there is nothing that for fifteen dollars she wouldn't do

Am I cold enough to desire the warmth of her desperation?
Am I hard enough to seek the tenderness of her devastation?

I ask only for trust and give her my card
she takes both and uses them with no regard

Young flower turned tumbleweed, poison passion fruits
plucked too soon from safe ground, broken roots.  

Author's Note

I look forward to your thoughts. This is the first posting on this site for me. Thanks.