as graceful as a tree, as free as the wind.

her Burden was light, in fact, she had none at all.

and her wings, oh, they were a sight to behold.

the earth was her playground,

the dirt, dark and so messy, left no mark on her soul.

she ran as she pleased,

played,

talked,

was loved.

she was a pearl, so round and endearing,

held snugly in the palm of your hand.

then she grew.

the tree branches twisted, and the wind favored her less.

her Burden became large, too great to describe.

each year brought another mark, her wings clipped so tragically.

she was tied to her imagination,

cruel,

deep,

and unrelenting.

the earth was calling so sweetly, it still wanted to play.

little did it know that for eternity she would stay.

(freeform poetry, written by yours truly. do not copy or use in any fashion without explicit consent.)