Cracked Shells
The blank open sheet of moon faced opal stone a broch in the sky for a dark glittery shawl on the lady who sits on her chair mindlessly watching tv in a nursing home somewhere, but her mind is miles away. Galaxy dreaming of skylines of past nights where she was just as empty but younger looking at the horizon, and wanting to sink into the sea. Shells kept her back. So many beautiful ones. The cracked ones she wanted to glue back together, but never did. She remembers all the broken ones she never had time to repair. She heaves a lament filled sigh and dreams on. Changes the channel. Dreams as blank as sheets of moon coloured parchment not written on yet. A book she never wrote. All her poetry locked up inside her with no where to go.