Her Lost Story

A little girl, not yet the age of thirteen Plays alone amongst the bushes and the trees Innocent and playful are her heart and mind Graciously untouched by the harmful, unkind Leaves begin to fall all about; revolving around her delicate feet They glide down like paper; the weight of their sorrow forcing them to defeat A young river, now full of life, flows swiftly nearby Its sparkling clear beauty, glimmers of new light, shimmering down from the new day’s sky The river slowly begins to cool Its gentle touch is soft as the lamb’s freshly woven spool The fog from the water creates new scene A scene in her head that appears to be unclean A chill from the winds creeps up her spine Spreading in ridges leaving all kinds of lines The thought of fear never crosses her mind Not even the moment she is stuck from behind The darkness of shadows drains into her sight She is unwilling, unable to move or fight The cold river once clear, is now filled with fog and color Color like the leaves left behind by the earth mother A warm wind blows along the bends From the east; caring swift voices till they descend The voices seem calm enough Showing only glitches of the strong willed, the tough Soon into the night they grow with greed and envy Then slowly die out with the sounds of her pleas A little girl not yet the age of thirteen Died alone, by a river; she was crushed by a falling tree Not one heard the tree fall Nor the screams of her call Her body never to be found Left to rot between the tree and the ground Yet her spirit lives on Living for the nature far beyond