Today I came out from a haze
It was a Sunday.
I know my wildfire persona has been tamed
But I have never laid in my bed
Feeling absolutely mundane.
Being as low and hallow
But still acknowledged and admired.
Like the momentary nostalgia and comfort on a fall day;
The array of leaves that would blow and accentuate my slightly
Small strong and physical
My beautiful red hair.
All the fall leaves blow away.
And her beauty
Conjured from forever mysteryness baby book faces.
I wonder the places I would have gone,
If had never been hit, tossed around,
Like a ping pong ball.
But I choose to fall back on the memories that light up the emerald stars that are my eyes.
Which are not a mystery to me.