She tosses her hair,
and smiles at every stare.
She carries herself like she is a feather,
floating.
but never gloating.
Her face is stained glass,
her colours will
fill any room.
Sometimes
you can find your features
amid her vibrancy,
before they are stolen by the sun.
Her absence is felt before she reaches the door,
so you watch her glow as she goes,
she goes.
She goes to a place where she wipes off today
and paints the world in grey.
Suddenly nothing is enough
because everything is too much.
The problem of a powerful mind is that
it can convince you to believe anything.
Today\'s transform themselves into tomorrow\'s
and suddenly she is her again,
wearing the mask of improvisation.