She’d been marked down —
rock bottom, priced to move.
Move anything, really:
a flutter at her root to stay
the long, slow death.
If there would not be life,
there on a shelf marked Bargain,
best to surrender voluntarily —
a silent end-of-life decision
none would protest.
I will go quietly, she thought,
so no one notices.
Leaf by leaf until I have left.
Left you with nothing but words:
she was beautiful,
she was strong,
She wonders now
how she came to be
sitting in sunshine one afternoon,
rays of light through her crown,
a gentle touch of warmth at her spine,
and the whisper of hope
through new growth.
©2015, Jen Payne