Natalie Four

Her manner always myriad, many a life she’s blown, unlike mine let it be said, never violent like the sea, an artists bright unknown, she continues to stay clean, never in danger losing cred, creates but doesn’t own, always says more is less, she won’t leave this street, and cannot pray for calm, but willingly lends her keys, with lipstick instead, her skin golden brown, she lights someone’s bed, a loving need, for some lucky foolscap, brings her sense of ease, give us our daily bread, make it warm as toast, she who lightly treads, so heavy on my soul.