Sleep Talking

In a shadow box, by the bed another diorama took shape, form, function 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-