free bird, blue sky.
remember the mighty dead, and just maybe
you will be granted a piece of who they were.
celebration of life and renouncement of the past gone by,
we grin and grin and with fairy footsteps she lingers in the garden of the Gods.
tip-toe through springy moss and the musky smell of flowers mingling with dirt;
the sun dapples the green of the earth and makes it flourish in yellow light.
the ivy grows in free-form tendrils.
the clover is thick underfoot.
white eyelit dresses lift in the breeze and copper skin glows with the sheen of sweet sweat and she trembles and shakes from the very /thought/ of being alive.
orange pink hue of her nail-beds grows multi-colored from the lilac pollen and mucky roots and white teeth flash in a grin.
tipped corners on the lips, self-satisfaction that lacks contempt and arrogance
replacement and enlightened, there is no need for the milky white expanse of a detached mind