Visions

The toy that brings back visions from a time before,
Nurses in sapphire skirts conversing,
Revolving doors spinning like dancers in resplendent dresses,
The scent of coffee wafting on the air,

White curls like cotton waving on stalks,
Dancing in the spring breeze,
Or an old women’s blue-washed tufts.
Its eyes are like a hole in space, deep and fathomless,
Yet framed in earthy brown, benevolent and warm.
Wrapped around like winter scarf,
And in a child’s wonder-seeking eyes,
An ancient Egyptian blue cloth, covered in white-inked runes.

When I embrace my lamb,
Visions come back to me,
Nurses in sapphire skirts conversing,
Revolving doors spinning like dancers in resplendent dresses,
And the smell of coffee filling the corridors.