Ingenue

Sometimes she tiptoes and dances

Lightly down the garden path at dawn.

And blows kisses to birds as she glances

Upward into the sweetly brightening sky

That unfolds like peach silk curtains

For the soft-hearted sun to waken by.

Sometimes she smiles imperceptibly

At the corners of her rose-colored lips

When white rose petals detach ceremonially

And in faith surrender to gravity's call.

Sometimes she hovers over ivory keys

Like a gypsy pensive before her crystal ball.

And the future is music, the kind that frees

The soul from the body like the leaves that fall.

Sometimes monsters wear masks.

A heart divided can only beat against itself.