Her eyes are a marble collection of rainbow hues,
fabricating past mistrust and apprehension,
into a revised perspective.
For she now carries her coat, her mac, her jacket;
no longer a protective cape, but kick-ass costume.
She’s colour, an orbit of Crayola; strides of smashed
kaleidoscope; her glass half-full.
Painting her former demons onto
a canvas of newfound strength.
Her lips mould words, blurring across my vision,
she’s everywhere, a beacon.
Her hair, a patch-work replica of the aqua-marine.
She’s home reconsidered, a swimming pool.
She’s a change I don’t fear,
now routine from what was before.