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Wild Child
March 2, 2014
She was a wild child,
Flowers blooming within her irises,
Their vines to thread between the ivory rib cage to her vagabond heart.
She was captivated by the stars scattered above her.
Opinionated as the moon,
Soft as the sky,
She ran to the meadow she had known as a child,
Where she drank a bottle of champagne,
Telling herself she liked the way it made her heart burn.
As she fell to a sleep she would not wake from.
© Steve S., Marblehead, MA
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