You walk a star-covered path leading you nowhere,
You think you're no closer but you're nearly there.
Be as it will, the stars glow for you.
Broken and picked right out of the blue.
No breath left to spare, yet they still breathe for you.
The end of the path is where nowhere resides
Stories of her fill the dark coloured skies.
A witch who resides in a gingerbread house
With an old woman's soul and a pink, satin blouse.
She lives in a space where time falls apart
She thinks that she knows where you really are
No nearer the end and no nearer the start.
Yet you carry on, on your slow morning walk
All while singing to the stars as they talk.
Of the nowhere they speak, and the nothing she bares,
Not knowing that nowhere is who put them there.
That they were the stories that she'd picked apart
Of the something and the somewhere that lives in her heart.
Syeda Erum Noor is dangerously oblivious and has no sense of time. Send help at firstname.lastname@example.org