Tap - Tap - Tap - Tap - Tap

The herald of the morning breaks
through the deep ink
of needle-pricked indigo,
scented sharp, angular,
amid the spherical savor
of deep rooted, red, earth.

Tap - Tap - Tap - Tap - Tap

The roots twined into your name,
shielded by the golden hush of dawn,
dancing through komorebi,
a Renoir from another land...
another time.

Tap - Tap - Tap - Tap - Tap

Kitsutsuki is knocking...
the call of a whisp?
fate? no...
expectance...
begging yet another errand
of a girl
who 'happily ever after'
left in rags.  

Tap...

Tap...

crack...

Glass shatters.
She will never sleep under ceilings
again.