Twisted minds behind refuge walls;
the voice in her head is singing.
She dances, twirls upon beaches-
the glass under her feet as sands of time, as acts, as songs.
She holds the glistening rocks up to her face.
The light reflects spindles of ages past.
To the moon she peers, her face hidden by shadows.
A spark inside her grows-
she waits for the melody to enter.
(8/24/2007)
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