she moved slowly, carefully,
a brittle sadness about her.
her eyes were wide pools
sheened with faint terror,
as if she saw peril in everything.
her voice soft, almost a whisper
and pale blue, drenched in sorrow.
she sang one word in echolalia
…broken, broken, broken.
when her shoulders lifted in a sigh
everything her breath touched
was greyed with melancholy
a faint dry dust settling everywhere.
she turned her gaze of fear to me,
her small, pale hand grasped mine
and i felt my heart begin to wither.
(With thanks and apologies to Mr Nick Cave.)