Her protector is lost
to the dusk of her birth.
Padded feet whisper daintily
across the spiked edges
of the moors. Misted heavily
over green matter of light,
she sees his enraged shadow searching
for yesterday's traffic studded highways.
Air-winded blends of
lemon, cherry, and grape scrape
across his eyes, dreary with tears.
She cries out to receive his echo
of silence, jettisoned from the icy,
isolatedsky scrappers of New York.
Ashessprinkle gracefully around her
fragility, bathing her in snowy
flurries of dust-flakes.
Their nostrils powder-caked
with the sweet scent
of lonely pine.
She calls out again,
he does not answer.
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