Magenta

Magenta.

Even though the wind had blown too hard –for a solstice storm,

When the moon had shone too red

And the sky been too dark,

Her mother had known that

Magenta

Would herald

Things too strange to contemplate.

She  learnt to wait.

It had not taken long for the bridges to appear in the strangest places, nor for Magenta to be No-Where found.

She always said she was

“Between”

Even before THOSE ONES said that there was such a place, but none could enter anymore.

The bridges “Between”

Had been severed.

Until Magenta.