The light in her eyes
Was there,
But was as ineffectual
As an upturned umbrella,
Her reality saturated
By whatever had happened to her.
She had a rigid distrust
Like a lone survivor,
Wrong place, wrong time,
Rattled by the very air
That filled her lungs,
The very breeze that dimpled
Her perpetually cold skin
Guarded heavy eyes,
Posture like a rescue animal,
Peering into the world
she didn’t know.
She became the bank teller
Who anticipated her fate;
Well before the masked man
Approached her window;
I wish it had been different
WordfulWhimsy 
This was so potent, the emotion so burning and palpable. The imagery interspersed vivid details with abstract thoughts, and the combination painted her like a three-dimensional person. I don’t only see her darkness though; I also see her light pushing through, even if it was not captured directly.
Hopefully this is only one part of the journey, the purpose of which will be revealed when she walks further.
Lovely blog, by the way. I’m mad about your custom background. 🙂
thanks I thought about changing it-now I won’t!
Well I myself periodically change my theme color and header. Sometimes I get tired looking at the same thing. 😉 So I can understand if you would like to do new things to your blog. 🙂