a special Easter Sunday when
she danced in the yard
without the slightest inhibitions
she would later refine. She
wore the dress her grandmother
made by hand;
Dr. Quinn and violin, the girl
she was meant to be fit squirming
and rebellious into ruffled socks and
shiny black shoes. She shrugged at
the patterns and folds
of a garment overbaring of her
five year old demeanor.
Six year hopes and a small
gold heart on a chain, she was not
yet entrusted with the fate
of her dreams. Songs of
symphonies or garage can sounds
intrigue a curiosity to forever
expand.
