typewriter poem

One day, a young girl walked into a seaside meadow.

The sky was clear and could be compared to a robin's egg,

It was her favorite color,

Her mother said it matched her eyes.

But that was a long time ago, before the car crash.

The flowers blew in the wind,

A wind that carried the scent of the ocean.

The birdsong helped her forget the sadness of the past.

She held in her hands a basket,

Lemonade, cake, an apple, and cheese.

The sun beaming down on her dark hair and the heat enticing a swim,

She was drawn to a flattened patch,

Maybe a fawn had taken a nap.

She wished her sister were here, but England had taken her heart,

And a man with a thick beard and even thicker accent.

The cliffs dropped off fast, fast enough for a path carved into the rock years ago.

She always ignored the warnings about not going down,

Throwing off her shoes and running barefoot all the way,

Hopping down each step as if she were a bunny in a past life.

Maybe she was actually a seal,

Because she slipped into the waves, as she was a sea creature.