Dawn at last,
Dreams from things past
She’s the girl from the dark,
Wound in stark
Twists from the time
Of misleading words, tide
Rising past the shadows,
Smile, try again tomorrow,
Vines widening the burrow –
Her abode, with the glimpse of sun.
Stride with the wind,
Colder than the fiend,
Until nightshades breakaway.
Brunilda Writes 