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Epitaph to Avery
December 15, 2011
Her soul was the wind
Ventured here and ventured there
Appearing amongst the waves as a silver surfer
The waves whispered
There is an ocean where her voice use to be
But now scattered like shredded trash
Catching and losing bits of landscapes and then in time, at the epicenter of cataclysms
Spawned her soul of sorrow
She looked out into a mirror that doesn’t reflect
Her identity is now the footprints left in the sand on a moonlit night
Before the tidal waves
Appearing and disappearing
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