Monkey in Red
She walks the path, her heels click sharp.
A bag of fire, swings from her arm.
Her eyes are stern, her mouth is thin.
The monkey queen, of silent streets.
She grips the flowers, yellow, bright.
They clash with skin, they clash with mood.
Her gaze is steel, her breath is slow.
She carries weight, the world looks on.
Her steps are loud, her silence louder.
The leaves lean back, the wind holds still.
A guard of trees, a crown of air.
The monkey rules, with crimson fire.
No one dares, to block her stride.
No one laughs, no one mocks.
Her power hums, with every step.
Her shadow bends, the stones obey.
The shoes are knives, the bag a shield.
The flowers bleed, with yellow flame.
Her hand is firm, her will is hard.
The monkey walks, the monkey reigns.
And when the night, begins to fall.
The shoes still burn, the bag still shines.
The flowers fade, the face is set.
The monkey walks, and never bends.
She does not bow, she does not wait.
She carries sky, she carries stone.
The monkey queen, in red and gold.
She walks the world, and all must move.
About the Creator
♿ V+ Marie381Uk
Poetry has lived in me since childhood.
Ink spills the feelings words fear to say.
My poems heal, some haunt, all are pieces of me.
Stay and read please. Like&follow me. If my poetry touches your ♥️ maybe leave a small tip
#Marie381UkWrites
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