The locket diary, a pre-teen girls secret garden.
Words, thoughts, hopes,
Broken and discarded upon the floor.
The bicycle, bicycle, her means of escape,
faster and faster to fly away.
A kite released into the blue becoming
Smaller, and smaller as carried aloft.
A tangled difficult choice for so long protected,
ripped from our hands.
Clouds overhead hide the sun
if only briefly,
falling across her path.
Riding in childhood wild and free
only to be sought out in the dark of night.
Blood splatters as the bike stops but
she flies forward landing
on the ground then silence.
Darkness and clouds skitter across the moon.
A hangar, blood drops,
sticky and salty on her face, her hands, down her leg drip, drop.
Two heartbeats. One heartbeat. No heartbeat.
The sound of dirt hitting the top of the casket.
The sound carries and flies away on a kite,
flowing away silently on clouds past the moon.
The locket diary, the bicycle, the kite.
Fly away Roe.
