Dreams of the Blind Girl
She's led by a dog as black
as everything in her life
except sleep.
When she dreams of fire, of
escape, she must reach out
and feel the flames to be sure,
the way she knows
color, or what she thinks we mean
by color, but can't describe.
In her dreams, she can't stop
touching. All night her fingers move,
painting the dark walls
with the green of grass, planting
the sky to bloom with blue,
or something lovely as blue
she's never seen
but can't describe.
Structure
17 lines · 2 stanzas