Trampled roses litter the streets, confetti
of the funeral of last nights festivities.
The dawn trickles soupy through the fog and glimmers
Against shattered glass.
I wake in a daze, on my back, on the tarmac
pavement washed with colour and litter, wet leaves.
I see a girl standing
sideways till the vertical horizon tips as I raise my head:
I recognise the girl, face paint almost sweated all away,
white dress crumpled and stained,
raven hair caught in a briar tangle.
We chased each other all the night and never caught up.
Now she pulls my hand, raises me up to stand
a head shorter than her and her curls.
Morning sweeps the mystery away.
(By Rachel Norris)
Prompts: Day of the Dead gallery, pursuit