Once in the stillness of a lazy day she turned from him and walked away. His hand reached not to keep her there; her back to him, she did not care.

There in the shadow as she found her way she moved along on feet of clay. His voice called not for her return; a sound for which she did not yearn.

Once in the tempest of a storm-tossed night she ran from him headlong full flight. His eyes looked not to see her go; her back to him, she did not know.

Clear through the woods her heart did sing, she rushed along on feet with wings. And when at last she did take flight... all the wrongs at once came right.
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Oddly, I find that things I wrote ten years ago or so are all true today. Prophetic without realizing it... or could it be manifesting?
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