A poem
Young girl sobbing, head bowed,
resting on the rough grass
as the stream murmurs comforting sounds,
“Hush now, my ripples drown out your cries.”
Eyes pool with expansive blue,
hair glows like sunlit wheat.
Delicate skin mirrors the blush of the heather.
Her tattered rural frock draws in
bright-winged butterflies.
Pleading for the ties of home to loosen,
they cling tight as shackles,
binding her to the cherished soil.
Her father’s call echoed on the biting gale.
Time to depart.