The Hidden Path

She walks along-

The hidden path.

Looking

through her glasses

made of whimsy,

losing hours of the day.

Picking what others see as flowers, while she

ponders how- they cannot see, they are

really the skies.

Getting home

later every day, missing curfew; her parents

giving her grief and loading

their trebuchet with questions.

Dodging- her answers never to their satisfaction,

do you think anyone will ever understand?

She walks along-

The hidden path.

Searching for the gems in the earth.

Finding the moments, others have lost

deep in their memories, Maybe-

she should be in other places

her parents claim her safety to be.

Still, she trudges forward, crawling

through the deep brush. Slicing through

the stems of, what a bee

sees as a buffet. Compiling

her camouflage.

She walks along-

The hidden path.