"come fluttering words, come drifting words to me . . . "
She wanders through the wreckage of a life she once knew
The sky is different now
Similar but different
Yes, the clouds form different patterns of tragedy in the gray abyss above
And it will never look the same again
She shivers at the thought
Catches sight of herself in a puddle
New roots sprout across her skin
And she weeps
Ahead of her is pink
She leans down to meet them
Let's her tears fall onto their fragile petals
Which bob gently in reply
As if they understand
She is mourning for a moment not yet passed.