Lona
Blonde fury, vixen of conceit,
in the midst of filth, you
played house. Acting out
a glamourous life filled
with ribbons and lace.
Every day was your adventure,
everyone, your admirers.
We watched you ride horses
through the verdant hills as
if it were your own parade.
Boys were in awe of you;
girls were curious with envy.
The tales you spun were
long and shiny, like the
hair you brushed obsessively.
Did you leave the forest behind?
Or did you take my pink room
and make it your own?
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