an emerald dress, flapping in the wind,
flailing on the petulant breeze.

the cliff face, rocky and jarring,
jutting out where sky meets sea.

the peak of a wave, crashing into stone,
relenting and dissolving its fury.

a girl, rosy-cheeked and fresh-faced,
her chin jutting as the cliff,
her eyes sparkling as the ocean,
and her mouth set as stone.

an echo, a call into the night,
a note of anguish and despair,
of tragedy and torment.

one hand, raised into the night,
reaching for the stars.

the waves crash,
the wind beats,
the moon sings,
and the stars burn.

and the girl,
in the emerald dress,
her voice echoes,
and her feet lift,

and it’s free falling.

the dress in the wind,
a bird flying through the night,
fabric floating on the air,
a creature -
airborne.

a moment of flight
with no ******,
just a bird
coasting on the breeze,
then a fish,
flailing in the depths.