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girl, more sylph than real
girl, mind in the casual whirlpools
of ordinary creativity
girl, creator of worlds so like our own,
so unlike where we live, move and breathe.
girl, so fragile and delicate
like a crystal dragon poised to take flight
girl, so strong and secure
like the leather straps and gleaming buckles on a sidesaddle
girl, like an evening star
bright and steady, but silently slipping down under the horizon
why have you gone?
why have you left the world a little bit darker,
our dreams a bit more frightening,
our future a little less shiny and bright?
if I weren't broke
I would shower you with golden coins
you could tie them to the edges of your clothes
and jingle when you walk
so you could come jangling back to us,
twinkle twinkle girl.
if I weren't so far away
I would take you by your slender hand
awake you from your crinoline dreams
arise you from your bed of tulip petals
for they are old, dry, dying, dead...
you belong with the living.
come back to us,
dream-dancer,
fancy-weaver,
magic-spinner,
poet laureate of the unwashed masses.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
I miss your works, Jenny S.!
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