Phases

She was a little girl, happy with how the sky smiled
The days spent playing, learning, tripping, falling, and mending skinned knees
Happy to battle monsters that hid behind the dusty corner, beside the abandoned boxes
Or lurked between the pages, or came alive as the wrinkled hands slowly weaved tales of sleep
Living a 1000 years was a happy blissful dream.. almost a treasure

She is a young girl, trying to follow the ebb and flow, the fine meanderings of life
Reveling in the pages that bring the world within her grasp
Soaking in the things new and old, capturing the essence of what she can perceive
Living is not bad, it is not a bliss it is a good thing

She is a lady, trying on her heels, directing the path she follows
Running, stumbling, grasping and pulling she finds herself
Books are her companion - guiding, supporting and pushing her forward
Living is but a existence merely, to live to last and to prove

She is a woman, standing on a vast expanse - should I climb that hill, or rather take the road through the woods
Walk or run...stand or move...pondering and processing
It is a never ending struggle
The pages are now soothing corks blocking the noise
Monsters now are friendly ghosts, whose visit bring on a smile, dark corners are a silent refuge
Living is a mere mechanism of breathing in and out