• Her gray head of tight curls
    Dance as she walks,
    In the darkness she stares
    Telling stories of old times.

    'And there they were...'
    She says over the glow
    of orange sparks,
    Her wrinkled hands growing and shrinking.

    Our open mouths stare back at us
    through her over-sized specks,
    The life shining in her eyes,
    Taking us captive...