Previously, lovingly crafted wood window panes,

And furniture, glass to see through,

Bakelite first, then plastic, now topped on a concrete base;

Also abandoned.

 

Something strange in the violence of destruction,

A weird order, showing the night before,

As all the action is frozen,

Illustrating all the detail of the immediate after,

But only fragments of the life before.

 

Let me unfreeze this chaos, and see new beauty.

She walked into the photograph,

Unaware of the role she would play,

A random figure in a study of rocks and sea

Visible on a bright summer afternoon,

As the sun settled into the deckchair of the day.

 

Meanwhile, she talked to someone, and remained oblivious to each other.

Before and after the event. Perhaps forever.

I wonder what it will be like in the morning.

Surrounded by those who love me,

I cannot imagine a nicer place.

Even though this Day’s Inn is new to me,

Everyone seems familiar,

As if they were there all my life,

Caring for me,

Meeting my needs,

Loving me.

 

I am going to taste this moment, just before I go to sleep.

 

And wake up to a new dawn.

 

My purpose has changed over the years,

Not just to provide much needed light for working,

Or reading, for those who could.

But also protection, at the same time letting in the light.

 

To the lives of those inside.

 

Peering back, the little girl glanced away from the window,

Enjoying her perch as a Princess,

Safe in the tower of the old Victorian home,

Where many children had played before.

 

And will play again.