I know we're both broke
And I may not have all the answers
To all of your questions,
But I'll give you my two cents
From my wealth of knowledge
If you just spend a little time
And pay attention.
Who knows
I might catch your interest,
And in the end
We both might end up a little less broken.

Sara L Russell, 23rd October 2014, 01:01*

She was sunlight and cinnamon;
all wide eyes,
auburn hair, fair complexion
freckles and fleeting laughter.
She was an enigma to her friends,
a golden girl to her parents…

Dappled sunlight turned her into
fragments of an autumn impressionist panting;
all her reds, golds and peach tones
wildly blazing,
vividly flaming in a sunset's haze.

She could make people laugh
with a dry turn of phrase.
She could silence a room just by walking in
through the door.
She could silence cruel words
with a withering look.

She was going to be somebody;
the world was going to know her name,
the future was forever -
until
he caught her, used her,
left her under autumn leaves
in a ditch by the roadside;

and he became somebody
and she became the face
of the girl killed by him.
Hollywood made a thriller about him
and his crime;
and her mother made an album of photos of her;
and the local paper published
her brief obituary.

She was running
Running fast
She was chased
Chased by yesterday
She was fleeing
Fleeing from the world
She was haunted
Haunted by regret
She is gone
Gone in the sunrise