patchwork doll

Leaning against a cold glass window,
a patchwork doll
of fallen tears
sleeps quietly
under the brilliance of a full moon,
its radiant light
reflecting of relaxing waters,
waves gently swaying back and forth
in rhythmic motion,
with trees dancing
to the music of a passing breeze,
and with wings spread wide
eagles are lifted
high into the air,
soaring above
tall standing cliffs
these precipices are always alert,
yet ever silent,
as beacons
against the darkest of phantoms,
shadows creeping around
in the smallest of places,
surrounded by
an all powerful presence of light,
its illuminating glow
breaking through a blanket of clouds,
an insufferable mist
covering this fascinating world.

And out a cold glass window
stare the vacant eyes
of a patchwork doll.