Runaway

A little girl came across our lawn
and knocked on our door. A pawn
no more. She was gone.
Past the dawn. 
Flew. 

Just a baby, innocence foregone,
she lay on my couch and yawned,
"No more." She was gone
past the dawn
to

late the next morning. She yelled, "Come on!"
when she woke. A little fawn
no more. She was gone.
Past the dawn.
New.

--

Creative Bloomings - Triquint