|A Dinner Table at Night, 1884, John Singer Sargent|
she asks herself..
her mind has zoomed out her companion's voice
waiting for dessert,
is that a wise move?
she wishes for solitude
there can never be a shortcut
maybe the morning will show her a path
but for now, the bellowing curtains hold her interest
not the raging fire
nor the winds or rains
nothing can shatter her calm
"not for her, the softened lights"