LXIV
She was wild yet refined
Calling to the moon
For the lover, she left
For a life that caged her
Wild soul
She was a forest
Stripped by winter
Bare
For the light of the moon to touch
Unable to fly away
Wings clipped by the needs of others
A soul needing to be free
The untamed forest within
Needing to find a way to grow again
To be again
To free her, to live again
Cried to the moon
And in its cries the sun
Burst through and hung the moon
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