Did she emerge from the
foam of the crystal ocean
baring skin of apricots and lust?
enveloped in peach silk waves from her
breast unto her hip?
gracing wafts of wrist to
tunes of siren’s harps on the mountains?
picking eyes of men like berries from bushes?

No.

The maiden did not stall the stage
to occupy the audience.

She did form herself out of the
wreck she had lived in.
the hardest of smiles carried in her eyes
to reassure her mind.
danced amongst flowers of healing that
whispered the secrets of being.
planted fresh air and blankets to
all that she loved for.