Friday, April 28, 2017

Lost Soul by Amanda Faye

It wanders from room to room
Confined like a dog on a chain
Or a ship anchored to the shore

It hasn’t been male or female
In centuries. The mirror’s reflection
Magic has ceased working

Calls for attention, to descendants
Who weren’t taught its name,
All fail, echoes in an endless hall

Countless cups and chairs have moved
Switching places without human touch
Whispers at night are nothing but the wind

It sits in its old room after dark 
Watching its great-great granddaughter
As her chest rises and falls under the sheets

Suddenly, she shoots up, her eyes
Wide, pupils huge as they adjust to the blackness
And it yearns to speak when she whimpers
“Is someone there?” 







Amanda Faye is a writer, life-long reader, and aspiring librarian from New Hampshire. Her work has appeared in Fickle Muses and will appear in the Summer 2017 issue of Illumen.  

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