Here she is.
Alone with her thoughts.
Misconceptions circle her head with
A growing velocity.
Phantoms sparkle in looking glass eyes;
Envisioning you.

The innocence was murdered.
Seeking what has yet to be found.
Breaking new ground, Destroying the old.
Growing weeds secluded the truth.

The sun melts her.
She fertilizes the earth;
Giving back life.
She was a barren desert.

Sandcastles built upon the sand.
Cold winds knocked her down;
Flattening the land, Ironing out the wrinkles.
Creases can only be temporarily smoothed out.
Over time they return.
She always keeps the iron hot.

Scott,
Sad, but well-written. Good job!
Your friend,
David Fox

Quite a touching piece, Scott.