Skies, once cerulean, commence to gray,
Darkness suffuses an innocent soul.
Little girl, always left behind, to play,
Ignores her damaged heart; a lump of coal.
So, thus, she functions as if in a trance,
Wearing a façade of complacency.
Absent partnership, solitary dance,
And seething in others’ indecency.
Afraid of sparking passions long asleep,
Amidst the tumult, beginning to stir.
And somehow finding herself in too deep,
Sovereignty no more the saboteur.
Vibrant spirit, once withered on the vine,
Discovering new occasions to shine.
“The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” ~ Marcel Proust