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“Who is the River’s Wayward Daughter?

She is the face behind the mask, glimpsed from the corner of the eye in the shards of the broken mirror.
She is a fluttering of a gauze skirt in the twilight breeze of the ocean
She is a jingling of a bell, deep in the heart of the forest at noon.
She is the half-remembered thread of a tune heard in childhood.
She is the faint scent of petrichor and amber, overlaid with pine.
She is the footstep in the sand at the edge of the pavement at the crossed road.
She is a scrap of silk filled with dried lavender and rose and mint, tied with a ribbon.
She is the shadow at the river’s edge in the moonlight.
She is a beeswax candle on a table beside a notebook and pen.
She is the reflection of the moon in a cup of red wine.”

Excerpt from “The Memory In The Mask”
Melissa Carr (aka, me), July 2013

I hate writing bios. Like, I really, really hate them. I’m so bad at them and they never really say what I want them to say, or they end up sounding cliched and boring and…let’s just say that I’m an artist, writer, and poet with a penchant for wandering around and exploring the world.