summer

intrepid

when did we become so numb

she was by no means
a lost swashbuckler
like Odysseus,
roaming the green pastures
of uncharted lands
with a homesickness
so i n t e n s e
it consumed him

nor was she like Calypso,
eternally l o v e l o r n,
exposed to adventures
through washed up sailors
and splintered driftwood

bearing the weight
of the world
on her shoulders
like father Atlas.

but a girl could dream.