Inspired by Sunday Scribblings prompt 250 - Invisible
I N V I S I B L E
Amorphous, I float.
Silver particles shimmering,
bouncing off the uneven ceiling.
The damp patch, a stained map of
some far off continent, where damsels
are saved and the mountains tower
far up into the turreting clouds.
And there ripped into tiny shreds, tissue
confetti lies like apple blossom, the dirty
rug is transformed, and by its side the bed,
the sheets tangled and knotted. Wrapped
and bathed in speckled moonlight
a slender figure sleeps.