October's Child

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The window on the right was her eastern view
She often called it her midnight sun
A little girl empowered; a gift of déjà vu
Never discussed upon the hill, not with anyone
Night meadows exhaled; the dew fell lightly
Willow drew sketches that revealed her gift
Chandeliers and caviar, banquets held nightly
Outside her window hummed a world adrift
She drew symbols of psychic communications
While staring into a mirror of her own penance
Locked in her thoughts with spherical aberrations
She looked at a world that felt no repentance
Her room became a haven, her time before time
Tomorrow quietly became her yesterday
It mattered not to anyone if she had reason or rhyme
A locked away seedling with little to say
In the valley they talked of the house on the hill
Willow, they murmur, disappeared without a trace
Enveloped in a fog with its own somber chill
Sits a house full of drawings; Is that Willow's face?

 La colline de Saule

August 15, 2010

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