she was today.
she was tomorrow.
she was the faintest scent of a cactus flower,
the flitting shadow of an elf owl.
we did not know what to make of her.
in our minds we tried to pin her to cork-board
like a butterfly,
but the pin merely went through
and away she flew.
-jerry spinelli.
by madisonmanno.
pencil drawings.
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