Heroine...
Some have called her
She bares the mark
Ink embedded on paper
And on her very skin
Sunken like a ship
Into waters deep
She resembles somewhat that of a:
3-Course Bistro
With colorful spirits
And you thought
I meant the drinking kind
There is no rhyme nor reason
Behind the words of this server
She always seems to be away
Tho at fingers reach
The strength of this woman
Her intense eyes and heart
The core of her creation
A place of her own
A strong willed resemblance
Of a female before her
Tho sometimes she must run
into the corners of her existence
behind her sheer curtain
Time is not enough
A foundation of gratitude
Humbled at the edge
The mind is a funny place
I've seen her on a Ferris wheel
On top of the Empire State building
She was dancing with ghosts
I've heard she too whispered
Into the ears of the statue of liberty
I assume that is why she practices her freedom
Her freedom to tell anyone to kick rocks
Into the direction of their rude awakening
And just maybe she screams and shouts
The words of her very own emancipation
What candid advancements she has taken
Her fingers move like flickering lightening
And the sound is like roaring thunder
When she desires to be noticed
A tall drink of water
inside a desert dream
I admire her taste
Her loud silence
Her quiet stomp
Her ability to overcome
To color the sky
And to move objects
You know she sleeps with angels
With a halo above
Her home of thought
Where the doves coo
