Purple Wings

Mother always told me it was a dangerous world for a girl.

Even more so if that girl had magic.

She said people loved to extinguish

the bright flames that raged and took home in our hearts.

Mother was magic and they snuffed her right out,

so in the end, she was right about the world.

Man is a cruel creature.

They’d destroy the ground they stood on

if they could make a pretty penny off of it.

The day they came, Mother was in the garden,

tending to to the temperamental cabbages poking out of the Earth.

I still remember

the color of her wings

as they dragged her

away.

They were a silvery purple

that caught and reflected the light

in a way that made you think

you were up in

space somewhere,

among the stars.