The Woman with a Sagittarius Moon
As a free woman, I crave the ocean. I crave leaning my arms over a balcony, And taking in the soft, Salty breeze in the air. Entering the crashing waves, As they entice me to walk toward Aphrodite’s arms. Collecting iridescent seashells And displaying them in my bedroom, When I return home, if I ever return home.
As a free woman, I yearn for New York City. I yearn for the feeling of never being alone, Yet being alone. The neon lights, The underground night, The train rides that lead to nowhere, Yet go everywhere. The company of people shaping their lives And becoming art.
As a free woman, I desire the mountains. I desire an endless view That makes me feel minuscule, As if I’m not alive in its presence. The healing Montana pines, The cool Aspen peaks, And the breath of fresh air Exhaling from the earth’s lips.
As a free woman, I dream of Paris. I dream of a café au lait, Fresh macarons and mille-feuille. The River Seine streaming gently, as if It doesn’t notice the lovers sipping Red wine on its bank. The streets emulating Couture and romance, Poetry and heartache.
