Lavender

The story of a girl who grew up not knowing.

Her eyes were like empty cups of coffee
Deep golden brown
with specks like left over grinds

Laid out prophecies
And each eye was like a crystal ball

I took her hand gently
in fear that her frail bones
might break
And looking at her was like
staring at innocence

Her skin was like a thin shell of porcelain
with subtle blue lines
tracing veins up her arms

She was planted like lavender
among the pines and ferns
lying in her grassy bed

Her arms like branches
bearing limp fingers
small seedless fruit

Mossy attire
bound to her by angel hair roots
Emerald green
And kept alive by her wooden heart.