Childhood Talismans

Into the purple smoke
she tossed her painful memories
wounds that oozed and refused to heal
stripping each scar from her body
and in turn destroying the scent
of lemon and honey
her mother’s blanket that kept her warm
on those harsh winter nights;
those bygone things and people
were no longer enough


The Lost Princess

An empty rhythm
In the castle in the sky
A waltz echoes through deserted halls
The foundation crumbles stone by stone
She who was the princess
Dances alone
Rapunzel-length tresses threaded silver
Sweep over deep indigo and turquoise tiles
No prince comes for her
Neither courtiers nor friends
The music is mummified in her mournful tread