Literature
.41.
When I found her again,
She was standing on the beach, at the edge of the water,
Staring out at the horizon,
Hair blowing gently yet wondrously,
Trying to decide if she really did exist.
I could sense her there, before I even admitted a thing,
Before I truly could tell myself,
There she is,
Standing right before me.
I watched her for a while.
She was new, she was transparent,
She would not stand still,
Even though she never moved her feet.
I thought her like an image on the television,
On a channel so unclear
That the figures danced across the screen
And the words all came out
Warped and scattered.
She was a new birth, just