Sleepwalking

Was it a dream that led her from her bed to her grave, or something else entirely...?

Fairhaired, with olive skin & lips of lilac 

Mother Dream-Theatre appears from the black

“Come, child,” from the doorframe she whispers

Nursery perfumed with Mother’s allure

The child, inquiring, obeys to the door

And catches sight of her nocturnal visitant 

Vanishing up the skylight 

Mother’s tongue intones magic notes

The child follows with drunken eyes

Up to the roof, up to the firmament 

Into the twilight do the two maunder 

Solely stillness as the night dreams on 

With sunrise does despair evolve 

In the garden, a broken child

Glassy-eyed & violet-skinned 

Lured from the roof by her sugar plum dreams

To meet the soil & the worms beneath 

Somnambulant circumstances, a most tragic scene upon the floor

A case of misfortune, & nothing more