The Dreamer

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The girl lays across the hardwood flooring, the coldness seeping through the thin fabric of the grey tank top. Her rib cage presses into the ground sharply and she shifts uncomfortably, but she doesn't want to move away from the window. Carefully, she rests her chin on her fist, multicolored eyes never leaving the night sky. Her irises reflect Orion shooting his arrow into the heavens with a flourish. Her slender, pale fingers fiddle with the hem of her shorts, nimble from years of flipping through fragile pages and gripping a pencil. Her long legs stretch out behind her, legs that will someday take her to new places. Her dark lashes leave shadows on her cheeks with every blink, the silvery moonlight planting kisses on her eyelids and drenching her in light, painting her into a masterpiece. Her light brown hair, streaked with platinium blonde highlights, cascades down her neck and brushes her collarbones, which jut out from her skin like logs just beneath the glassy expanse of water. She breathes out and watches dust particles dance and twirl past the tip of her nose. Her pink lips lift and part into a smile, marking her face with a dimple like a crater in the moon above.  Her heart beats like a hummingbird's wings, full of happiness and love, not yet spoiled by the heaviness and worry of adulthood. Slowly, unwillingly, her eyelids droop and she catches on last glance of the star-spangled sky through her eyelashes. Her breathing slows and she slips into the ocean of sleep.
She dreams, as is only natural of a dreamer.






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