She rises with the sunlight,
river waving a happy greeting.
The day belongs to her,
pen finger itching,
the ground gazes up with such warmth,
and her home is the pastel palace she’d always dreamed of.
Upon the mantle,
dangerously close to the vengeful fireplace sits the last echo of her old existence.
She sent for her things and threw them away,
but the last, languishing memory made its way into her life again.
It meant nothing,
but symbolised everything.
It was a game that she played with herself,
staring at the past with stolen eyes,
searching for the summers she’d spend in a cyclone of lost time.
The diary of days gone by,
barely readable scrawls,
the dying words of a girl who would be reborn.
Just around the river bend,
just over the rainbow,
just a day or a decade away.
All the promises she made to herself came true,
but she never quite felt free of yesterday.
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