Do I have a right to stamp my feet and scream and cry because of failure?
I have failed, because I did not see.
Now I have to process and make sense of this loss......
She sold her reflection for four hundred dollars
Beauty held in her palm
Paper twirling with blue markings
In the summers breeze
A conversation with her hands
She sold her reflection for four hundred dollars
While standing on foreign land
She paid for coffee
And the movie where trees have faith
She writes about the inner pantomime
Her love of his music
And her dreams of flying
She sold her reflection for four hundred dollars
But her soul is now seen for free
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