Quieter days stand before me as if they are trying to tell me
   that the answer lies  
perhaps there is more than one
perhaps there is none
What was it that should’ve been done

I catch her staring off into space
Then closes her eyes
for an instant, expressionless face
contagiously gleaming
then opens her eyes

I find her worries to be uninviting
Do not dare to come near
casting a spell is intertwined
With aftermath that must be endured

Immediately raising her voice
but not raising words
cannot find the right choice
resorting into vanity

Quiet days stand before me as if they are trying to tell me
that the question divides
perhaps there is more than one
perhaps there is none
What was it that could’ve been undone

I catch them gazing into place
then close my eyes
for an instant, enthusiastic face
contagiously beaming
Then open my eyes

Disengaged with comfort of my own
Do not dare to come near
breaking a spell is defined
with progress that must be lured

Effortlessly blending her dreams
but not blending thoughts
can find the right choice
morphing into sanity