The girl who cries wolf

The Stanza

It sat between two heavy blocks of type, above and below and was exactly five and a half lines. 

There it had been for several years, inside a book, on a dusty shelf, behind the door of her creaky closet.   

Bold black lines, set against a backdrop of ordinary. 

Words that understood her. As if they had been written for her.  

In preparation for this exact moment of discovery.

“Oh,’ she breathed, “why has it taken me all this time to find you?”

- Lang Leav