In a shadow box, by the bed
another diorama took shape,
while she slept.
The whole house quiet with the ever tick tock.
Paper snow flakes in the process of falling
to a cardboard lake, frozen fast in brown fuzz and blue paint
Purple velvet ribbons in sweet white glue
an aurora borealis gone still
and two silver sequins
befitting two moons
blown in from her window sill
White tissue moths eating holes in the back
letting light in to the pin prick of stars
and deep in the corner,
the farthest flung corner
a secret on the dream lips to slip...
to be flown to the feather of whispers-