Her death was eminent and she was partially to blame. The night’s darkness overtook her and held her captive by her name. Brilliant and bold and spectacular in her ways … though dazzling with confidence still a hostage of her fate. She was a rapture of beauty – the queen of the night – she became the face of envy towards anyone who gazed. She spoke to the silence with a cunning reserve and her voice was an angel’s; deliberate and pure. Handcrafted and original none dared to take her shoes … she enveloped the epitome of perfection and rarely made a move. In the night’s sky she blossomed and with authenticity became a star. She shone bright like the northern lights, sparkling from afar. With yesteryears she was not concerned, neither timid of her past. She was what she would always be … a diva dancing boldly in the dark.
photo copyright: darrenwoolridge.