A small, thin thing
of smiles and flashing eyes,
gingerbread houses
rainbowed skies.

She springs from sleep
each day anew
with video visions
of remarkable hue;

with unclouded skies
and unbroken dreams
a fairy tale life,
or so it would seem.

But time will steal on
and take what it can,
an unnoticed thief
pillaging man

of all that we are
or hoped we would be.
It could happen to her;
It happened to me.