To live inside

{Poetry}

Draped across the wooden bench.

She claimed this resting place with a collapse, yet wild.

The wood-drenched

It reminds her of the church with her mother as a child.

One foot on the ground

back and forth-against slippery peat

Her curls-released over the seat.

Bubblegum fingertips run blasé figure 8s

on her thigh

La-la-la-lee is her last war cry

Too proud to never go home

Now scared and lonely

As she is not yet grown

Staring up into the trees

To the one branch and to that one leaf

Fierce wind blows

The inevitable awaits

Clouds run the sky

It lets go.

One tear

Falls from her eye.