One can gather an image of a person
Become acquainted with their way of life
With naught but a fleeting look
Into the silence, into the still
Into the serenity of their unconsciousness
The room awash with a lilac glow
The air thick and musty,
like the dawn of a foggy day
The hush of the room constricted the life
As though one was captured in a frame
Unbeknownst to the sleeping girl
Captured in her own self-inflicted prison
Her lace trimmed childhood
Sliced open like a flesh wound
A stone’s throw from her pale head
The whole room tremored
The filigree curves of wrought iron
The floor a powdered woman’s face
In sawdust like snow fall
From the lilac stained roof.
Then the whole picture fractured
Shards of glass littered the sawdusted carpet
But still, the girl slept on
Blissfully ignorant, to the crater in her roof
Blissfully ignorant, to the sunlight beating on her face
