She walks along-
The hidden path.
Looking
through her glasses
made of whimsy,
losing hours of the day.
Picking what others see as flowers, while she
ponders how- they cannot see, they are
really the skies.
Getting home
later every day, missing curfew; her parents
giving her grief and loading
their trebuchet with questions.
Dodging- her answers never to their satisfaction,
do you think anyone will ever understand?
She walks along-
The hidden path.
Searching for the gems in the earth.
Finding the moments, others have lost
deep in their memories, Maybe-
she should be in other places
her parents claim her safety to be.
Still, she trudges forward, crawling
through the deep brush. Slicing through
the stems of, what a bee
sees as a buffet. Compiling
her camouflage.
She walks along-
The hidden path.
About the Creator
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