Her hair fell down her back like an empire
that went up in smoke and went down in ashes.
It was red like the shade of the sky
when the sun was being sung its lullaby
and was tucked behind her ears
like an elvish princess laden
by the memories of her outstretched lifetime.
Seasons came and went like night and day,
but something in the changing stayed the same.
She wore a chaplet made of flowers
with a green dress made of lace
that matched her eyes, and on it
floral patterns of faded yellows
moved about across her breast.
Her feet were always bare
and her hands were cold and pale.
Her heart was made of glass,
her eyes were made of stone,
and even in the nighttime she preferred to be alone.


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