A Restless Girl In a Pink Bedroom

A restless girl in a pink bedroom Scans the implacable ceiling, Or buries her face in a book To subdue the hurting feeling. And the days fall flat as roadkill, Grind on and cool their heels In minutes and hours of deadlock, Like rusted cogs and wheels. Childhood sneaks to closure, And nothing does no good On the border between confusion And the bloom to womanhood. In the tangle of ebony hair Lank and listless on the sheet, And the summer-kiss tan of her skin Lie the sorrowful signs of defeat. She could cry for the ending of times Rose-tinted with visions of love, Now a restless girl in a pink bedroom Sighs and stares at the ceiling above.