Jul 28


I picture you, in your little glass bubble.
Your eyes open wide, searching for escape.
People staring in at you, laughing, pointing.
And then you turn.
On your face, a haunted look, haggard and weary.
Your once bright eyes, dull with pain.
Your body, sagging, ragged.
Then you see me.
I lift up a hand to your still beautiful face,
Kiss away all tears.
Bless you with my fingertips,
Ease away all your seventeen years.
And I wonder as I pass you by,
Now bright eyes, leading into war.
What kept you away from us?


About the Author: Graceth Harleli
"She is too fond of books and it has turned her brain." ~Louisa May Alcott