Sat at a spinning wheel.
When I walked into my playroom
She nodded to me.
I was shy and ignored her,
Choosing some toys from my chest
To play on the braided rag rug.
She watched me as she worked.
After a while I drew some courage.
"Are you a friend of my mother's?"
I asked.
The lady smiled and stopped work.
"Lela knows me," she said.
I stood and walked to her,
Almost brushing the wheel.
Up close, her dress was like sheer curtains,
Sunlight shone through, making no shadows.
I put out my hand to touch
Nothing and saw nobody but momentary glare
From the windows behind me.
Perhaps I was lucky she disappeared
In the aurora of the day,
Before a shadow that meant me no harm
Could prick my finger.
I was not ready, then,
For the hundred year sleep.
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