(written in 2008 a la self-discovery)
It was an angle she hadn't seen; or hadn't known better.
An angel who hadn't dreamed, or hadn't seen the starry string.
She often hid to sing and it was hard not to let her.
It's what i thought when I met her, she often thought of silly things.
I'd pause to find some cause in dreams,
"It's because our dreams are where we find reason to pause."
She'd often scream of bears and paws, I never found any.
Many a night, she took to flight. She never shook the oak's cold blight.
And moss swore they never met. Forever touched. That night, she wept.
T'was brief, but grief and applause filled the sunken air.
A drunken tomb felt unholy and my mangled mermaid fled the glare.
Felt the fair wind flutter..."I need space to grow and care,"
My old murmurmaid muttered. Then I left her there..