The beat of the music, the skies dark with storm clouds,
her hips sway with the trees,
her shoes tap to the song.
She woke in her skin, warm and kissed by the dew,
that touch that still lingered, she knew where she’d been.
She painted her lashes, her fingertips and toes,
brushed the curls in her hair and powdered her nose.
The day was so stormy but the air whispered her name
and she still felt the fingers pulling her mane.
She wandered slowly down to the creek,
the water washed over her spirit as she woke from her sleep,
she skipped over the rocks as she watched the birds peek,
the wind blew through her spirit, defying the shallows, pulling her deep.
She climbed up a rock, cool and damp as her sighs,
knowing the beat of her heart had been stilled,
for love is but energy and never dies,
but only does what is willed.
So she sat with the shadows of what is and what was,
remembering the good that had touched her life,
sometimes it’s the effect of the cause,
she tastes the blood as it drips from the knife.
She knew the storm coming in,
she lets the drops of rain fall on her face,
you see, she knows where she’s been,
and not one step has been erased, love has found its place.