Bumped again by crowds she freezes

Surprised by people all around

She scans the swathe of nameless faces

But the one she wants cannot be found.

A small hand tugs upon her sleeve—

A query, she shakes her head no.

How can people find their way?

She is an insect trapped in their flow.

She is famous for the broken tower,

The moonlight stream of her silver hair,

But who is she free of her prison?

Who will she be, now she’s not there?

Gone her prison, gone her home.

To run for adventure now free.

But what will she do when she finds it?

And who in the end will she be?