The Way She Went

I watched her fade away her fabric was rinsed too much, beaten against a stone too much. it had bleached her out of herself. The paint of her presence has bled away in the sunlight she has become almost indiscernible. I knew her when I was a boy she was so alive, electrified with vitality. Every eye sparkled that looked her way. No one should dry-up and blow away in slow motion like this. Yet that older lady was still a girl behind a tattered yellowing gauze of surrender. I recall her dancing lightly over the roof of my mind I only wish she had flown higher, dared herself to fall even.