The Model, young and distant,
bright and in a silver eclipse,
wedding ring.
She sits in the gardens,
lush and bright blooms,
the scent of a distant summer.
She is happy. Coming to light.
The night will be here again soon.
The night of her world.
A spirit, a child, her spirit, running
among the exotic and sweet blossoms,
when she all was day and noon.
A spirit, a child, without a care,
without the tarnish of sin,
hers….or others.
The Model smiles, remembers,
all those games and worlds,
all that seemed within reach.
The spirit fades in laughter.
There is a tender shard in her heart.
She weeps bittersweet tears.
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