The woman sits in her room,
Cold and damp, a cave.
Emotions sweep over her like a million vacuums sucking at a wisp of dust.
Quick as an instant, but as beautiful as a summer's sunset.
Painful as a sharp prick in the finger, but pleasant, a walk on the beach, as well.
Her adult life,
Spent alone, as alone as a deaf, dumb, blind child never seeing the light.
Her final moments,
On a bed, cold as death, remembering the "happy old days".
Staring at the ceiling, she sees her life.
Her spirit runs free, a little child, fading in the distance.