She sits; afraid.
No writing on these stone walls -
the chains hang limply from her wrists,
efforts of freedom lost.
The blank passages in her mind shrink,
fear’s fingertips in the cold recesses or her mind -
The maze stretches endlessly, from now ‘til forever;
a turn of the hourglass and her world spins.
We gaze at her, merely a grain of sand
falling, passing -
one more stone through the sands of time.
© Copyright 2016 Victoria Klis. All rights reserved.