Rebirth

She stands in the street, spinning, splashing, grinning.
Drenched in the freedom of being exactly
eighteen point nine four three eight two zero,
and dripping with the incandescent feeling
that makes your mascara run but your eyes sparkle.
The cool raindrops begin to erase the mistakes she made,
and her newborn maturity appearing like a patchwork quilt
will wrap her up and dry her off,
leaving her gently restored.

Reviews

[Kenneth The Poet]

Stunning, I like this much.