She is toil

The tanned skin from years in the sun
and the hint of gray at her temples,
and the perfect sway of hips beneath
the summer dress,
her smile squint and dimples--

The arched back of a dancer posed
and the arms outstretched to fly,
and her first time fluttered and closed
lashes and lids,
pinching tears from her eyes--

A Place of Refuge

To hide and not get caught,
rest instead of run,
be lost instead of found,
feel safe where no one else does--

somewhere I can think,
talk to myself,
A place so secret--

I search for this place that I know and trust,
But I don’t know anywhere or anyone to trust,
Or even if I trust myself with anywhere I go or anyone I know.

A place so secret--
in the dark, the cold, the night.