Odense

She believed in ink and parchment

Where her world came to life

Through letters and words that

Danced from the pages

Twinkling like stars

Through her endless night.

Oft alone she created

A microcosm of her own

Life breathed through thought

Black and white

Yet imagined through colour.

The other worldly beauty

Too far too be a parallel universe.

This is where she lost

Herself

And no one knew she was gone.

She never spoke of her imaginary friends

Who continued to outlast the

Temporary.

The stain of the quill was eternal

Whilst life is short lived.

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