Ianthe
A soul you'll find
Hair messily plaited
With purple flowers
Peeking between their folds
Or donned in various purples.
Aware of what her name means
Having not the choice
Whether to adore the color
Or to despise it.
As it was preordained
By SHE who brought forth
The world's first woman.
YOU ARE READING
LOST GIRLS
PoetryThose considering themselves lost girls of society. Godesses of creation among men. Or nymphs of nature. These poems were written for you.
