I’m stumbling across a path of green
I’m becoming entranced
light is glistening from the hidden sky
that is seen through the cracks between
the many branches
of the Sycamore tree
slowly I start skipping barefooted
my hair is slowly becoming unraveled
from the tight bun Nana has roped
my loose golden curls in
a man is whistling in the distance
I’m becoming attracted to his melody
I must find his cry
the one that is drawing me closer
to his hidden presence
I soon discover a wooden bench
it is empty of human warmth
it looks lonely
eagerly waiting for someone
to make use of its adamant self
I decide to sit down
and wallow in my frustration
beautiful stranger
where art though?
”fair maiden”
behold a centaur takes the form
of the penetrating voice
that I so longed to hear
since the moment the reverberation
entered my empty ears
I become intrigued
the creature cannot comprehend
how such a tragic reality
is only seen as fantasy in my eyes
Amber is the Color of Her Energy 