Poor young Alice

An Alice in adolescence

Her breath was stolen

Her heart punched in the face

 

A gust of wind was the culprit

One effortless blow

And down went Alice

Down into the dark

 

It wouldn’t have tried its luck

If she were older

But her youth made her light

Like the piece of thread

that attaches itself to the awkward creases,

and crevices of your trouser leg

 

All it takes is one,

one aggressive brush of the hand

And it falls down into the dark

It’s on the gravel and insignificant

It’s a motion that will never qualify

for a place in your precious memory

 

Poor young Alice…

Light blonde thread in the wind

she cannot stay outside long enough to study
those beautiful lines in wise faces

For the moment they see her

she falls, and she fades

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