at night, warm,
embraced by gold leaf.
The gold leaf
reflects her light as she walks.
Like fire, wealth is warm.
She grew up warm,
in a tower, blanketed in gold leaf,
yet she’d rather leave a legacy of kindness, so away she walks.
She walks among the underprivileged, her soul warm, before suddenly waking with a laugh, knowing she’ll never turn over a new leaf.
Note: This is a tritina. CynK noticed that I skipped one of the words in my last sentence (see comments). I had it in there originally because I always write the last sentence first. But then editing happened. We all make mistakes. It’s amazing to have a constructive feedback! I’ve since put it back.