She

Snow falls:
years of anger following
hours that float idly down --
the blizzard

She's the blizzard
drifts its weight
deeper and deeper for three days
or on a path to sixteen years, eh? Then
the sun! a clutter of
yellow and blue flakes --
Hairy looking trees stand out
in long alleys
over a wild solitude.
The man turns and there --
his solitary track stretched out
upon the world.

And there she is standing there

The cause of the blizzard some may think

But she is really just a young girl

But now she repairs every heart

Every person that even looks at her

Because she the little girl has a story to tell

And she will tell it well

*I told this poem because it's what my adoptive parents told me. About myself and they're right I have a story and I should tell it*