Amaranth

[pre]There the child stands,
her dress of lavender reaching only to scraped knees.
Cleome crowns her gold-brown hair, woven by the stems.
An assorted bouquet she clutches in both hands,
the sticky-sweet smell of nectar attracting insects aplenty.
She stares back at me with eyes a piercing blue,
rosebud lips curling as she lets out a giggle.
A tap on my shoulder makes me turn to inquire,
but no one stands behind me.
I turn again to ask the girl at what she laughed,
but she has disappeared.
Alone as she will ever be, as she does not exist.
A child with a perfect name, but for those damned eyes![/pre]

Comments & reviews · 2
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wicked sweet vocabulary! i had a little trouble, i had to read lines over again a couple times, not that flow-y
a little confused at the end with the damned eyes thing.
but i guess its supposed to be abstract-y right? Like a little surprise.
what ever, i like it alot. your rad, and its rad.

carolinewashere



See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories. Ask for no guarantees, ask for no security.
— Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451