Weird Emily

Sat in the corner of her dark, disturbed room Hiding from the careless lackadais of the outside worldly folk The thoughtless gesture, the idle look The conversations that glanced across the heart like a bullet By a candle's dim flicker She soothed the wounds, took restitution in the solace of a word Found majesty in a syllable Tuned an ear to the rhythms of the heart And from the stillness of the shadows Plucked brilliant shafts of reverberating light. ~ Laurence Overmire (Previously published in Red Coral, Spring 2001; Poetry Castle, Jan.2002)