Emily Dickinson

She walked — alone —

among the Sun and Frost —

Counting Hours — like Petals —

falling — one by one —

The World — a distant Bell —

sounded softly —

while she — in Rooms of Silence —

spoke to Stars — with Ink —

A Door — unopened —

kept her Secrets safe —

Her Mind — a Garden —

where Ideas — grew wild —

Birds — Letters —

fluttered from her Hand —

Carrying Thoughts —

no one could confine —

Death — a Visitor —

waited quietly —

Yet she — smiling —

welcomed Eternity — in Words —