Pained, tired, hungry
Resting peacefully
Shut from the outside world
Caged in a small bubble
Ice cold,
Shivering
Tick...
Tock,
Tick...
Tock
Warm air filling up
With cosiness
Smelling of freshly baked plums
And surrounded by
Almond coloured walls
Cocooned in nothing
But a deep, red, blanket
Soothing whispers
Quietly hush
Into a deep, dark, sleep
Skin fragile,
Wrinkly,
Shrivelled up
Like a broken hearted worm
Covering for shelter
Once ripe
But now old
Youthfulness gone
Yet beauty still remains
Crisp as autumn leaves
Soft as golden sponge
Fine lines
Protruding veins
Intoxicated with drops of
Sweet vanilla
Seek to mark years of
Strength and wisdom
A fighter in its shell
A warrior in its sleep
Tick...
Tock,
Tick..
Tock.