In a blue bonnet
sitting on the soft water soaked ground
she writes an invisible sonnet
no pencil, or pen, only her voice’s harmonious sound

Dirt, blood, encrusted on her face
westward bound, in her prairie schooner
just finishing an impossible race
alone, everyone; dead, if only she had arrived sooner

broken legs, broken hearts, marred the cavalcade
in pursuit of the American Dream,
her wishes of a better life, farewell, she bade
finally able to sit, reflecting on all her friends buried along this fateful stream

getting up, her bonnet removed
wishing that if only her wounds could be soothed.