From girl to wolf woman,
it was your turn to lead.
In the woods,
short skirts and stanzas.
Though you were miles away.
Saw you in London, once.
Hiked up Covent Garden.
They did ask,
and yes, poetry.
From your throat, to my core.
If I’m to ever know,
or if I never do,
I have grown.
Under watchful words,
not intended for me.
I planned for Manchester,
never quite could, never quite will.
Heart broke down,
I camped by the stars,
wrote to you, wrote to me,
and then, the world.
