Her hair tumbles down her back,

Loose curls fly behind her

She runs from the words

They are tall trees in the forest

haunting her sleep

There is no rest for her.

The poet

looks over her coffee cup out the window

gray day like the night

the words assault her

use me!

no me!

Enough! cries she

I will walk in the sun

choosing my power over the words

(for s.t.)