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She speaks volumes
To the morning glories, in full bloom
A dog-eared novel flecked with gold
A dawn, blood red
A fate foretold
Her crooked feet, they ache to run
Across the meadows, caked with sun
Over the bridges, metal agleam
Across the river
Across the stream
Penetration of the night
She dreams of Nyx’s futile fight
She understands she cannot move
She imagines the freedom
They have removed.
A horizon joyously broken
The feeling that cannot be spoken
The hopes and dreams of little life
She wheels away
The thoughts of strife.