A footfall soft upon the floor
Passed me as I reached the door.
A murmured word , a brushing tress,
The rustle of a summer dress.
I am sure I felt her pass,
A glimpse I caught within the glass.
Her soft voice fell, but gently such
Polite , but firm she said, "Don't touch"
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Author Notes
While visiting a beautiful, old home restored as a museum, I was about to enter what had been the "boudoir" of a young teenaged girl. The thought came to me that she might not like having people traipsing through her little sanctuary, when I suddenly became aware of a Presence at my side. This poem is the outcome of that brief visit.
Perfect Artwork by Supergold.
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