The Visitor

by Sonia Cheug

Every evening , before I go to sleep . A young woman comes to visit me . She is a mysterious creature . Fadedd and dark . I love to see her play with her little toes and fingers .

She has the silouette and mind of a woman but the eyes and vision of a child , who loves to watch people move in slow motion . She walks around with her head in the clouds . Dreaming , always dreaming . She dreams about love and catching a train to no final destination .

Her head is filled with questions , music and beautifull words and pictures . She listens to the sound of rain , as if it was one long romantic poem and she hums to herself, when ever she is by herself .

She is spectrum of bright colours and a volcanoe waiting to errupt . She brings out the best in me , when I need her the most . She guides my hand through this very piece of paper , when I fear myself , at the most vulnerable point .

She is my shadow and my subconscence . She is who I really am . She is ME .

The End

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