Golden Girl

The fire girl glides down the asphalt river,

her book nose and pen hand taking in the world,

making it beautiful.

She smiles as the sun hugs her,

a cool almost chilling breeze rolls lazily by.

A strand of her aburn hair dances ,

a slow waltz between wind and fire.

She looks at her arm,

a golden burning glow eminates from her,

the ember of a playful flame.

She breathes in the bitter scent of coffee.

A smile envelopes her face,

this is her home,

her bastion,

her fortress of homework, poetry, reading,

and coffee.

Music, calm yet powerful, fills her ears.

The art on the walls soothes her. 

It sings of memories,

 not hers,

strangers memories.

In that moment

everything is halcyon,

perfect, 

serene.