When minutes swirl around the stale air of my room
And creep under the thick blanket decorated in flowers and butterflies that rests atop me
I think of the girl that once lived here
She slept in this very bed
Under the wooden bars and against the painted wall
She exists nowhere but pictures and memories
A wisp of a person once known
People still view me that way
She is still his daughter
He still whispers a lullaby to her every night before bed
Although he sits on her mattress later than before
He still dances with her and sings alongside her
Although now she’s more reluctant to join in
When did her carefree wonder
Her infectious life
Crumble to wisps of ash that dance through the air
Twirling above her resting spot like a ballerina on the stage for the final time
When did she abandon him
Leave him with his gentle kisses and half-moon smile
But I refuse to let her be gone
And to let him mourn for her
So for now I’ll rest my head upon his lap
And let the chamomile croon lull me to sleep
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