- T.S Eliot
There she sat in the embrace of the new sun. The hands of which, melded with cashmere so soft, so warm that it lulled her into consciousness and she was greeted by it’s welcoming rays. It sat her up and shone upon the thing held dearest to her full heart. Her father tall and protective, her mother ellagant and bright, standing over her bassinet in a loving enclasp. And all the while the sun shone bright and everlasting.
There she sat in the depths of the deceitful sun. The hands of with melded with artificial silk so compelling, so cogent that it swayed her into a false consciousness and she was greeted by it’s tinted rays. It pushed her up and showed its rays onto what she held dearest tpo her cracked heart. Her father’s welcoming likeness and incapability, and her mother’s convulsing smile and translucent eyes, standing over her trundle bed in a mendacious enclasp. All the while the sun shown contrived and insincere.
There she sat in the claws of the vengeful sun. The claws of which melded with metal spokes, so sharp and so cunning that it shook her into consciousness and she was greeted by it’s burning and freezing rays. It forced her up and shone onto the things she held closest to her empty shell. Her father tall and overseeing and her mother was no longer there.
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