Sunday, December 20, 2009

the woman i'll become.

paper tissue

more of my poetry-

cut through the summer heat.
with a fork and a knife i'll eat.

golden skin. and a sunburnt back.
her hair blows wild, but her mind's intact.

named brave, she dives into black water
standing unique in tradition of her father.

moistened fingertips in a purple shirt...
fighting against a world of hurt.

tossing that lie, she'll sing her own song.
those goldish strands growing long.

eyes sting in the summer heat.
for her flag will never signal defeat.

*i wrote this poem one day when i was picturing the kind of person...the kind of woman i want to become.

No comments:

Post a Comment

from keen.