She
© 2005
She dons grace
Like shadows in the dark:
Flickering, formless
In silky pools of moonlight.
Can it be grasped?
The essence of the soul -
The mind's-eye view
Of the solitary child?
She dons hope
Like pebbles in the stream:
Pushed blindly forward
By a thousand unshed tears.
Can it be granted?
The wish for another -
Walking oceans alone,
Mocked by time himself?
She dons wisdom
Like snow in the summer:
Unseen, distrusted -
Melted by relentless sun.
Can it be given?
The strength to dream -
Uncrushed reveries
Fueled by secret fires?
I wrote this just now. Don't ask.
It's weak, but it can be reworked.
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