The Trip to Beautiful
She is laced with feelings
to the base of this green mountain
where she has poured out her sorrow
and watched it bloom yearly
with great soggy tears.
On the oak trees
that line the streets
are her babies names,
engraved with the date
when her heart stopped for a minute
and tried to capture them,
before the scampering of time
took them away.
She has loved in the grass
and sighed into the night of this neighborhood
until she has become as familiar
as the morning dove.
The duct tape holds her feelings in
and is wound tight to the curb
where number 614 is painted in white,
yet she knows of the infinite possibilities
that are alive in her.
Does she dare climb the roof
and search all the miles to the ocean
and find some otherness that has eluded her?
So she changed her route
and took the narrow road that led
to who knows where, because the same thing
was making her soggy.
That was when she saw the truth
waiting for her in every reflection,
and she was beautiful.
[This message has been edited by Martie (edited 04-06-2001).]