THE CHANGE
for CED
She sat by a lake
at the infancy of her first dream
a poem,
Saint-Ex open
in her hand
The Little Prince, the desert, a plane
above, all was an envelope
in green
no winter
no snow on mountain tops
trees watching,
this was change
she saw it on the wet earth by her feet
soft waves with words
lapping up stones of years she’d lost
standing she drew a world of different selves
that she might become, that she might lose,
her name mixed with the city
where her soul lived on whiskey and tattered pages.
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