For now she sleeps, her hair across her arm—
a teddy bear slips from her warm fingers.
Her innocence and beauty so disarm,
scarcely would you guess that worry lingers.
A nameless shadow joins her fragile sleep
from childhood illness—gone, but nonetheless
discomfort that surprised her, and so deep,
her dreams are somewhat darkened by distress.
With wind as unexpected as a cyclone
illness came and swept away the chapter
of little girlhood—now the pages gone
like every child before, and each one after.
Before, she was a small child with a bear—
at chapter’s end her star has shed a tear.
