Left in a meadow where flowers always bloom
A little girl dances forever,
Playing with her dolls and teddy bears and blankies.
She never cries, never sighs, never needs a hug,
She’s perfectly content knowing that everything,
Everything is fine. All is well.
Sometimes she pauses,
Raises her eyes to the heavens,
And tries to grasp at a forgotten memory,
-Or perhaps a vision-
Of a darker girl,
A dangerous, wild and wonderful girl.
But the feeling of something forgotten fades,
And the girl lives on obliviously
In her meadow of innocence.

I wrote this poem… sometime. I don’t actually remember when, but I stumbled across it while going through some of my old poems and I rather liked the imagery, so I thought I’d post it.