She was a virago, and I admired her for that.
She walked solivigantly, never looking back,
She walked into the forest so orphic,
and was on the tip of losing her viridity,
She started to become marcid,
As she found slips of her civility.

She realized she had imagined a paracosm,
The selclouth sounds led her to the end,
She’s sat outside by the lighthouse,
She’s sat as a paralian

The petrichor and the irenic...