The moment the light in her eyes went out,
like a snuffed-out candle, her sun lost its glow.
Vacantly staring at a whitewashed wall,
void of graffiti, its substance is gone.

Having to keep busy, busy like bees in a hive,
only to be outdone by frantic ants in a hill.
The heartbreaking cry of a thunderous sky wounded
by a boundless echo of distress.

The power of words is undeniable.
True or false, they're burning a hole in her soul.
Why not think twice about the discharge from your mouth
since the harm is not retrievable.

Consider the child pulling out the wings of a fly,
without a second thought!
The petals of a flower ripped apart,
one by one, in a mindless game:" she loves me, she loves me not"

Destroying the essence of beauty itself.
Looking for the sun that needs to appear every day.
Yearning to slice through those unyielding dark clouds
to restore her power in spite of the words.

Voiced with venom for a love lost.
A rejection that is not condoned
in a warped world of selfishness.
Time will heal all wounds or so they say.

With every beat of the clock a sliver of renewal
coats the crack in her soul.
And after the Earth has completed thousand circles
around the sun, she will regain her control.

The clout to stir up a fire in her heart so intense that
it will burst under that ferocious fireball of a
Fourth of July independence, where jubilant flags stir in
a wind of satisfaction like a bear who's found her pot of honey.

Needing to embrace that sun completely,
a magnificent upside-down rainbow appears
in the center of her world and at that moment
the light in her eyes will gently ignite.