A February Poem: The Wandering Girl

The chestnut painted bunny

Emerged from the jade

And grass blade.

Whiskers wiggling

In a scurrying twitch

And ears perked tall.

Inner pinkish hue exposed

Like the breathings of one’s heart

In a love letter

Stamped and wax-sealed.

To the left

The brisk breeze

Sent scarlet tossing.

She pushed her finger

To her lips

A motion to silence

The rosy roar.

Her feet were bare

Slanted sunlight

Tracing skin

Palms pressed

Against glass.

She stared

And glared

At the world

Beneath the robin’s egg blue


And she wished

She could bath

Beneath it.

Her eyes were

The month of March

Green like tree tops

And ankle tall


Bright emerald

Alert and aware

Sinking into

The rabbit’s gaze.

Innocent and kind

Polite and proud.

Morning had come and gone

Afternoon sweeping across

The trimmed yard

Brushing up against

The chestnut blob

And bungalow.

Her fingers moved

Wrapping and bending

Around the chipped copper

Door handle.

Turn and open

She stepped outside

Dew and mist

Greeted toes

With butterfly

And ladybug kisses.

Her face tilted

To the sun

Her hair falling

Longer down

Her back

Waves like coastal sea.

Peach smeared lips

Smiled wide and


Automatic as if

A string was attached to

The upper corners.

Rays of yellow yarn

Doing their

Daily duties.

Because she just needed

Wanted and yearned

For something


To love.

Her back turned toward

The chestnut and


Her feet brushed

Across the grass

Crumpling the strands

Like pieces of paper.

The sun closely trailing

As her silhouette

Skipped toward


The antique shop

On the corner of

Sycamore and


Hand carved portrait frames,

Boats in bottles,

Vintage fine china,

And danceable records.

From the room upstairs

A hand emerged

Sweeping aside

The laced curtain.

He peered outside

Eyes falling upon her.

It wasn’t nighttime

But there was still

A shooting star.

She continued wandering

Stepping onto a curb

And turned around

Finding him.



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