Forest by Elizabeth B.D. Johnson

She is not golden,
And her irises pale in the light.
But there are years to come
In the lines of her smile,
And the chirp of morning birds
In the song of her laugh.
She is not golden,
And she is calloused in false paths.
But there are rivers woven
Into the dance of her step,
And the stability of roots
In the comfort of her embrace.
She is not golden,
But she is every other color,
Vibrant and alive
With the vigor of the forest.

Author bio

Since early childhood, Elizabeth was the girl in the corner with a pile of books. The girl whose humor was truly just a mix of obscure and opportune references no one else seemed to recognize. The girl who couldn’t leave the house without a novel but who might have forgotten her shoes. Today, she is working hard to be the woman behind the words.

Elizabeth B.D. Johnson is a storyteller from the Midwest (USA) and a recent graduate from the University of Iowa, where she studied creative writing and French. Now, she is living in Toulouse, France for a year before returning to the United States to pursue opportunities in publishing.

Normally an insistently long-winded writer, Elizabeth can often be found in her local park revising her stories and discovering new ideas, always with some type of juice resting nearby.