there was a woman who lived
in a glass box
there were no doors or windows,
chains, or locks
she smiled and cried
she watched flowers bloom
and die
she read poetry
and dreamed of romance
on occasion
she danced

but always
she touched glass
hoping for isolation to pass
she longed for warm fingers
and peaceful embrace
for the box to be lifted
to kiss a man’s face
she’s still there now
with gentle grace
wondering if love will ever come
to this place