Wild women sometimes get the blues,
    the grays, and darker hues.
But they know sugary pastels
    and cheery colors always
    lie beneath the cloud
And have the patience to wait.

Wild women live in bodies that
    bear the signs of use and abuse.
Hair touched with silver, lines carved
    by laughter and sorrow.
Eyes that see with a little help.
    Beneath, the ageless souls of children
    and limitless spirits untainted by the
    passage of time.

Wild women sense each other.
    A twinkle in the eye, laughter that comes      easily.
A good story forged of fact and a pinch of fiction.
A silent inner knowing.
Instant kinship of fellow adventurers.

Wild women can give a bear hug,
    a shoulder to catch tears, a pat on the back.
They can talk with abandon
    or sit in silent companionship.
Packs of angels hover nearby just to enjoy the show.

When a wild woman leaves for the other side,
    she flies to guard others left behind.
A female child, a sweetheart,
    loose from restraint and regulation
    Going beyond normal and conventional bounds.

Are you a wild woman writer?

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