like a wildchild
she ran with the wind
feet barely touching the pavement
arms outstretched like wings
all through the day
and into the twilight hours
her little legs kept going

despite her mother's calling her to dinner
she kept up the pace
too little time....so much to do
she shouted as she passed her gate
her mother smiled to herself
thinking the answer odd
for a child of five

at 17, she died

poetry by kassanna
kassanna's poetic dreams
copyright:2003