20030830

Fallen.

The sweet serenade
of a little girl along the beach.
The crisp, cool wind blew upon her rosy cheeks.
In her pretty pink dress
all lined with frills
her gandma sewn,
stich by stitch.By stitch.
A song of sadness hugs the pale moonlight.
Delinquency would have been ignored
at such a beautiful sight.
Her curly locks resembled those
of a little baby doll. The sand
surrounding her petite little feet
melted with red paint.
Beige.
Red.
Brown.
The figure that seemed to fit this art
so perfectly,
ruined,
as soon all that remained
were the tears from heaven
and a mass
of pretty shades of pink,
against the fragile sand.
Far far away,
too,
the painful weeping of an old lady.
all dolled up on 10:53