She could not concisely have expressed how it happened
How the vibrant colours of the days
She found herself living within the walls of
Had  become strangely gaunt and watered down

But they had

And this man, a man she barely knew
Could not possibly know how the words he had just spoken from the pulpit
"Here we are, half way through the dark days of Winter."
Would reach inside her and stir up the winds of urgency

But they had

Amid strangers, she pulled a thorn from her self-inflicted  crown
And silently began mending a life she barely recognized
With vision both struggling and skewed, she fumbled along with thorny needle and thread
Upon that which for too long, had been coming apart at the seams