Run towards the sun;
Don't stop, Don't stop.
And once you've reached the surface,
bring me it's light.

Sara L Russell, 23rd October 2014, 01:01*

She was sunlight and cinnamon;
all wide eyes,
auburn hair, fair complexion
freckles and fleeting laughter.
She was an enigma to her friends,
a golden girl to her parents…

Dappled sunlight turned her into
fragments of an autumn impressionist panting;
all her reds, golds and peach tones
wildly blazing,
vividly flaming in a sunset's haze.

She could make people laugh
with a dry turn of phrase.
She could silence a room just by walking in
through the door.
She could silence cruel words
with a withering look.

She was going to be somebody;
the world was going to know her name,
the future was forever -
until
he caught her, used her,
left her under autumn leaves
in a ditch by the roadside;

and he became somebody
and she became the face
of the girl killed by him.
Hollywood made a thriller about him
and his crime;
and her mother made an album of photos of her;
and the local paper published
her brief obituary.

Pink petals float on water
Bubbles dance down on the rocks

Flowers fall like snow
As lace upon the grass

Beams of gold spread on the ground
And leaves reflect the sun

it was probably a mistake
the day you swore her eyelashes were wet from the rain;
the night you promised to never belittle the importance of the sun

because here she lies,
tears precipitating,
stomach lurching
at the thought of you and
I promise you, I swear
that the sun could never shine
nearly as bright as she did
when she started
rising and
falling
for you.

you have opacified her
radiance
you have shunned her
selfless light

and she who was once a sun
is now a hopeless, spiraling
monsoon.

Cold sunlight
River Thames shivering
chopped glass