She is a poised figure,
stretched out on a couch—
too short for her legs,
tracing shadows on the wall.

Her stone-polished eyes
hunt for ghosts through glass,
paused on secrets
only she can understand.

Does she know
how time drifts,
slipping softly
beneath her bare feet—
just her and the world,
peering through a window,
searching for a reason
to step beyond—
to cross to the other side.

She is a creature of calm
both tame and taunting—
carrying quiet mysteries
as she slips into the unseen.

And, maybe, all this time,
she was never meant to stay—
but was just passing through,
like a shadow on a wall—
fugace as a ghost.