Wings of the broken.

Straightening her arched back she stretches for the stars all too aware they are not within distance. The moon’s glow shimmering across her pale skin leaving a trail of glitter kisses in its wake. Shaking shoulders white, black and grey tufts of feathers float delicately onto a gentle breeze, the tide of change whistles a melody through the dancing leaves of eternal seasons. A star above twinkles, as great celestrial wings spread open upon her back. Eyes searching the horizon with the depth of an aging soul. She reaches again for the stars that are out of reach, smiling, knowing, she is a fallen angel and needs no one for she will rise to the heavens and dance among the stars an eternal introvert lost in the silence of the universe.
Karen Hayward ©2016

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