A carefully contained leap away from heralding itself

A little balcony red rose blossomed, knowing sun by light, never by sight

There she stood, just like that rose,draped dangerously delicate in the gemstone turquoise,

She looked like the vine that would support a rock.

Her hair , it fell, in a careless bashfulness, singing a silent ode to her wilderness

A wilderness she held captive, clasped in her two hands

Wrists caged in blue bangles, trapped within them all the gasps and sighs

She reminded me of a distant, clear mountain lake, meditating forever, to no end

Nonetheless, I saw, at the break of autumn,

That quiver, worded, sang like the river, died down in the sea.

Death, I felt, she would calmly take, should the quiver whisper “That’s the place”

She would draw life out to her, like the sun

And like the sun, she is warming and relentlessly distant.








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