Little Girl

We are wisps of smoke
In the wind, curling ever so
Slowly above smokestacks
Only to vanish and fade;
A transient thought in the mind
Of a curious God.
We live and then
We die and then
We are forgotten.

The sun rises; then
Sets and keeps our
Minds occupied with
Fleeting thoughts and
Dreams for a tomorrow
Worth breathing for.
But do we dream of the
Same? Of wings and
Heights and laughter?

What happens to a
Dream deferred is that it
Withers; alone and sad
Kneeling in the dark on
Ashy knees and sweaty palms
Thinking of what
Could have been.

We are bound by
Words hindering actions
Smothering intentions
Withholding wings for
Locks and keys to a cage
So confined; soundproof
To keep the birds
From singing.

But little girl, don't be
Afraid; don't cry, please.
A spark of innocence
Amongst smoldering
Ashes and kindle
Burnt past recognition
Is what you are.

Fly away from here.