I did not promise you
the future you rehearsed.
I wore what pleased me.
My body stretched out on grass
I absorbed the day’s heat.
Became one with the earth that made me.
You turned me into a ballad,
a sighing refrain.
But I was never your sorrow.
I was a girl in green
with sap on her cuffs,
with wind in her hair,
wanting to choose her own path.
The colour fades.
It always does.
Cloth thins.
Songs travel further than the truth.