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The soft warmth of a blanket. Crushing feeling of night. Small hands creep closer to the body. What little warmth is save. Saved in a small jar of hope. The crushing feeling of the Darkness is all around. Yet it it comforting for the small beating heart. Wrapping around small shoulder and gently rubbing along the spine.

Feeling...





Keeping the feelings close. Hiden. Yet so clearly seen. Only seen by those who look. A deep icy blue. The blue of hiding. The tiny toes curl under and closer. The darkness closing in. Blanket becoming th eonly thing contecting. Conecting to the world. The blanket of Darkness is the Blanket of Giving. The Blanket of Life. The eyes close tight. Shutting out the fear, yet holding it in. Will the worl only give a glance...?







The feeling to be seen and heard. All wanted and needed. But fearing if people do. Hate it? Love it? Despise it? Fear it? Give it in return? A small frightened mind asks these questions. The mind sits in a small and abused body. Seeing and hearing things to young to know. Missing the once held Child Hood. A feeling of lose and fear. Is it there? In the Blanket of Darkness. Surronding the Missing Child, with the Eyes of Blue.







The warmth of a blanket. A small beating heart slows. The heat once held in a jar, fading away. The light is dimming. The fingers losen their tight grasp. The Icy Blue start to lose their lust. The Tears of Hiding Emotion are showing. Flowing down the pale porcelin cheeks. The breathing is slowing. Yet the soft pink lips part. The last breath wispers are that of happiness... Not sorrow.



And the spirit was lost. In a gracefull hug. Flowing up. The warmth came back. But the body of a small missing childhood stays. The two embrace.



No longer lost in the flurry of snow...