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She was a stray airplane in the sea of stars
An imposturous glimmer of hope
With no true end or destination
Destined to float among the lights, alone
Or so she thought as she wrote it down
Sealing the edge with the sad remains
Of wasted birthday candles
The final goodbye to the golden days
Prodigy at first, prodigal at last
A soul lost on the way to find a meaning
Searching for the faintest sign of a beginning
With her writ of passage left behind
The death of the author means
A rebirth for all things familiar
The return to a garden of thought
And the flowers in full bloom.
Attempt at an elegy. I was told to stay away from the abstract, but I couldn't help myself.
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