“you wouldn’t grow without me”
mocked the sun.
leaky petals scurried
across untamed fields;
Marisol wept.
–
no matter Marisol’s nimble roots
the sun endlessly on her trail,
up till
the sun splits west
and Marisol hears the moon-
her voice, one more time.
–
Marisol awaits the east for her beauty
while the night-gales slumber;
her song supports, feeds
safeguards
choir of shining lights glimmer
on her every note.
clouds part as she journeys after the
villain
one day
she’ll trap him.
Saint's Muse 