A vertical piece, like a tower.
Like something from another century.
with stairways that go up to the attic
where there is a fairy window
where there is a daydream.
where there is poetry
where there are no storms
not really
where we stop reading
where we stop thinking
where we recognize
yet continue upwards
past the round window
that doesn't open
towards the ceiling
so high
it's a narrow space
like I said, it's a tower
it's intimate, close and soft
and dreamy
the round window watches
it sees your memory
it views your dream
oh your serene face
I know it's a cover up
I know it's a blanket
I know you are alone
