Leaving

From the far-flung meadows,
the green and ochre melt,
a white dress hangs on a pole,
the owner distressed.
A small boat floats in the sky,
a little palm stretched toward it.
The dress begs, “Don’t leave me here!”
A voice floats from the corner,
“I’ll have to go, or else the monsters will come for me!”
Now the white melts with the green and yellow,
colliding to form a bridge,
a bridge to the sky, the boat,
and she sails away.