Strange Plateau

strange picture frames lie on the scorched earth of the barren plateau, crooked and jagged.. to strange for her bucket of watercolors. to obscure for pastel horizons to rupture in light. no ressurection of the multi-colored aquatic bow. no dispersed water molecules ever form in the sky of the strange plateau. she standing there like a solitary arcane thistle, disturbs little the vascular tissues and rivets of the dry grass. the crumbling tableland streches out for miles in its bleached open expanse. it seems to her to be disected by very old hands. she reachs out to hold them and once again she is a daughter to the blood red dry earth. a child to the hardened corrosive mantle. the sun overhead shivers in its sleeve and fathers her for a time. in the high plains of the strange plateau her soul grew so happy, though her body never was found..