She is seated in a chair
upholstered in worn tapestry,
cerulean and turquoise
with a terracotta foil.
She is worn and softened
in her contours
like the furniture;
the quiet light from a window
falls on her,
a see-through comforter.
Near her on the floor
a cylinder of earthenware
ablaze with yellow petals,
velvet dials like faces
turned to her,
aspiring to the blue-eyed
day, the radiating azure sky
whose ripples lap the sill
she sits beside.