Lying her head upon the floor she
Dreamt of the many crazy foam
Wars, puppet shows and finger
Paint galleries that had once
Brightened this room.

The books that had been read while
Taking a bath. And the way the pages
Had felt after they had dried.

The loss of baby teeth and innocence.
The gain of womanhood and the
Supposed knowledge that came with it.

For years to come, still searching for that
Knowledge she would return to that
Room and lay her head on the cold
Tile floor with only the imprints of
Tile design on her face to show for it.

—J. Dyson