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kelly smith on the shore.
November 10, 2021
Where is that woman?
The one who left, long ago.
Who cried and wept when she turned seventeen.
The one whose parents worry more about money than what happened on that school day.
Where is that woman?
With long silky hair the color of bark,
the one with honey pot eyes.
The girl I saw with a man—a man twice her size.
I miss her, I say, to the people on the road.
Oh, woman, in my dreams.
Oh, woman, at the bottom of the sea.
Where have you gone?
© Quinn V., Wellington, Florida
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Before I created this poem, I had a dream about a woman—who I soon called "Kelly Smith." I became attached to her, for the dream itself was Kelly being hurt. After that night, I was never the same. I think of Kelly sometimes, and to speak of what I saw, I wrote this poem.