Lady in pink
Bright blonde hair
Remembrance of home
She is the sound of the mountain air

Eyes like the jungle
Heart like hell
She is the war
Ask her, she’ll tell

The land consumes her
She consumes the land
Pollutions of bombs and grenades
And her bare footprint

Death is accepted
Says the accessories on the copper wire around her neck
The blackened leather tongues from an ambush
Breathe a thousand breaths

She passed by to see the moral
There in his hand
The thumb of a child
Cut off by hatchet

She slipped back into the woods
He loved her in a way no one ever could
She knew all to well his problems
He didn’t belong there
She knew better than he
The innocence of unknown knowledge
Drove her insane

One with the one
The river, she is
Flowing and slipping and watching from its shadowed bed
Stepped through and polluted
Choked
Not dead
Exasperated
Searching for a breath
Before overriding and consuming the land

She is the girl who slips through the trees
Who checks upon her children playing like pawns
A natural beauty, child-like glow
Loved my the men who see her
She’s the only girl who knows

Such a peace created
Needed to be shattered
The beauty and brains
Couldn’t pull together

Sweetheart of the River
Insane by the thought
The limbo between what’s physically possible
What happens
And what’s not

She is the death
She is the life
Moving and stopping and slipping and beginning
Only to die