Distant Happiness

Carnation in color—

matching no other.

Sun-kissed are the petals,

I dare not disturb her.

 

Instead,

I write,

my pen taking note

of how she dances in the wind.

 

She didn’t bob or weave.

It was more of a graceful curtsy.

Pausing—

I saw that she wasn’t free.

 

Ensnared to a life of loneliness—

she frees herself in the emptiness.

With eyes that looked her way,

she’s given life—

one of only distant happiness.

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