Golden Strides upon metallic stilts like a Lion’s Teeth drifting in a steady wind across a petrified playground.
A distant, a sweet residue
one— I can no longer visualize in my dreams.
Yet, still, I feel the rhythm of that wild and bewildering heart thump:
a hare of purples and speckles of gold—leaping, no galloping like four hundred horses through a darkening forest overrun with an array of lovely or deadly enchantments—all dancing with visions of being one and the same
once upon a time I was.
today, I am no longer her.