She road the wind like a feather on a parting trip from home.

Naturally plucked from the beast that once sheltered her.

Opposite north,  falling toward  no certain destination .

Kidnapped by the wind, pushed  to the misery of forgetting what life was like before the bottle.

No doubt she was a slave to addiction, and was held hostage by a grape.

She mostly dressed in white.

White stained red by the drops that missed her lips in the early afternoon hours of the day.

Every now and then she pondered...

what if the missed drops where fates way of protecting her from her closer inching demise.