A little girl, in sepia,
a huge Shirley Temple bow
crowning her head;
something of a pun,
she sits, legs crossed,
on a damask ottoman,
the genetic duplicate
of her mother;
near her, the cat
with a collar bell
holding his head steady
to minimize the noise.
The pose and the frown,
just a warm-up
to cultivate new tissue
for an immune existence;
she, an intangible archetype
in a tangible universe,
seeking to survive
inside one mysterious epic.
Her distorted reflection
will wrap spiral waveforms
around the fairy-tales
of the illusory world,
with the desire of a feline
hunting to satisfy hunger;
a human heart on the Holy Grail
in perennial aspirations,
her words will surge and ebb
not knowing, at the end,
she is designed to woo
her painful joints.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.07 seconds at 11:24am on Nov 23, 2024 via server WEBX1.