realist was gone for a while,
replaced by a stranger, wildly
fanatical tapping at growing
moss at her feet, reminiscing
forgotten events- drowsily so .
tired to core, crumples with thud
on hard ground- distorted image
as if engraved on vellum. drastic
measures frantically needed to get
her back on track of normal life.
“every so often, all one needs is rest-
along with books of fiction on bedside”