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Lacey
February 4, 2011
As she walks that empty stretch of road, her mind spinning, looking down at her feet, she is beauty.
As she hides from the world, with her hair in her face, only looking up as the moon calls her name, she is beauty.
As she wipes the tear from her eye, trying to sleep, but knowing it won't come, she is beauty.
As she surrenders herself to the silence, waiting for the moment, that perfect moment to end her song, she is beauty.
And she will never be mine.
© Elizabeth G., Marblehead, MA
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