the night was young
the rooftop sang in the wind like a little kid
she twirled her hair as the sun became the hills
she pirouetted with flames in her eyes that
flew to the treetops and grew like a blossom
beneath the early summer sky
she smiled like she could have lit up the whole
entire world
the nightingale cooed, watching her fly
and i don’t even mean metaphorically
she was risen twelve feet into the air that’s how majestic she is
sporting a minidress that was populated with flowers of all sorts
she was a daisy, a wildflower, a tulip, a lily, a rhododendron bush, a whispering oak tree
the starlight saver who sparkled so vibrantly
even the moon bowed down at her bare feet
i watched her transform into an angel and she
soared like a bald eagle; her only purpose in life was to be freer than the ocean who held her down to make her drown
she was ferociously alive by the standards of the sky
i just observed her from the rooftop
captured by her looseness and her freedom and how she left the hindering feeling behind, opening the gates of the reformed prisoners who morphed into tiny stars that night as she beamed and twinkled with ecstasy
angel, i can’t believe i am able to be in your presence, in a five step radius from you
it’s an honor