where dreams began

It was not much
of a table. It came in a color
she did not like, but it had
a drawer she could lock,
small shelves to hold her books,
and a neatly hidden
reading light.

She found it standing in the corner
of her tiny room one day
after school, her father proudly
announcing “the gift” though
her birthday was months away.

(She always thought it was a bribe
for something he had done)

Nights were not the same
ever since. She spent hours
tucked away in the corner
of her tiny room,
scribbling her dreams on pages
of diaries she so treasured.

It was not much
of a table, but it had become
sacred space, a sanctuary
where dreams were born
and nurtured. The place that kept
her sanity, where she drowned
herself in daydreams, and hid
in a world
of her own.


written for napowrimo day twenty-five, “small, definite, meaningful space”

© annie scribes 2017
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