Intelligence remained
dimly lighted
within her vacant rooms,
cerulean blue -
once common of skies
from her laughing noons,
where the *******'s sun
held rigid his flames overhead,
like an Olympic torch
for a personal victory!
Sweltering and
scorching,
uncrossing her grasshopper knees
careless pearls glimmering
intoxicated on the elixir of youth
such “that'll never happen to me” naivety,
hidden within
an oak's breast.