By Marie Sheard
Escaping to the pages of her book
Enjoying the warmth of waxy floorboards
She sits against the wall of her bedroom.
Legs stretching shadows in a ray of sun,
Watching the dance of tiny specks of dust
She feels the embrace of her sanctuary.
Whenever she seeks peace, her sanctuary
Offers the silent welcome of a book,
Pages well-thumbed smelling of love and dust.
Sitting on the bed forbidden, floorboards
Invite her to play with a ray of sun,
Sneaking through the shutters of her bedroom.
Rumble of voices outside the bedroom
Do not penetrate her sanctuary.
Watching the gold slice of the ray of sun,
She rests her hands on her lap-covering book,
Her body melting into the floorboards,
Soothed by the scent of wax, sun and dust.
Eyes follow dancing silver specks of dust,
Easy to forget she’s in her bedroom,
Now she’s flat on her back on the floorboards.
Time has lost all meaning in this sanctuary,
And stories await in the open book
Lying on the edge of the ray of sun.
Stretching its long finger, the ray of sun
Playfully throws its diamonds of dust
In her eyes and she reaches for the book.
Back to reality in her bedroom,
Seeking in stories once more sanctuary,
Suddenly aware of the hard floorboards.
Sitting up, her legs along the floorboards,
She blinks against the teasing ray of sun.
Fingers ruffling pages of her sanctuary
She finds the last words read. The flecks of dust
Are dimmed as shadow darkens the bedroom.
She is drawn into the tide of her book.
She’s no longer aware of the floorboards,
Ignores the lengthening soft ray of sun.
She’s dancing with words in her sanctuary.
Marie Sheard 2023