Sylvia

Carefully she stands,
and concentrates on her eyes
not taking in a thing in front
of her preserved frame.

A soft banging on a door
with no lock that can be seen,
but no way in or out,
no way to know if it exists.

She sits and stares, eyes grasping,
resting, a state of perplexed
acceptance, expecting waking
up to somehow still occur.

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4 thoughts on “Sylvia

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