her purse is a suitcase,
a leather body bag
just less than a hearse
just more than a gag.
some sheets are made of water
other sheets are made of down
but nobody knows when the daughter
of serenity will come around.
she may appear like a cat
by your window late at night
and from her bag a little hat
to cup and crown her white knight.
dare not try and hold her
for she'll jump from your arms
shaking grief from her fur,
licking guilt from her charms.
she doesn't seem to know
that her purse is a chrysalis
and to enter is to let go
of serenity from her bliss.