~

There is another kind of glass, a magical

Globe of glass, the one Virginia holds

In her hands, above her head, as she dances,

Her smile beatific, following the globe

In sleepy, slow circles around the room,

Wherever it takes her, a floating orb,

Light as a ballon on a string on a blue sky day,

As she twirls to its music, dances to its rhythms.

This is her magical world of schizophrenia,

A make-believe land of colors and dreams,

Of heavy meds and hallucinations, a world

In which she is never alone, a fragile world,

Quick to shatter should her arms weary,

The music stop, then, a world of pretty shards. 

~