She held a certain dignity
Shabby clothes worn with integrity.
Forever searching for the meaning
lost within the scheming of their
Wrinkled and yet evenly
The smile in her eyes somehow forlorn.
She stood alone among the many
rushing streams of their humanity.
No one noticed when she
And still, the throngs rushed through her days.
Her incoherent babble, full of wisdom, was ignored.
She breathed the breeze that suffered not
the kingdoms of their gods.
One more note, she entered
in the dream.
Loving found in brooks that babbled steam.
Soft, the cushions of the throne
that held the dying queen...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2003 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .