Shivers run down even in that warm place,
her red-tipped fingers poised on the surface
of the paper. Pen in hand, eyes closed,
she murmurs, "Pen in hand,
eyes closed, she murmurs."

Eyes open and flicker past
the surroundings, seeking, chasing.
The red-tipped fingers curl
more tightly 'round the pen.
The paper rustles with every stroke.

Eyes flicker back and forth
and once again she murmurs,
voice mingling with the rustling
of the paper, the ticking of a clock and
the whisper of the shimmering air
in that warm place.

She goes back and counts, "One, two, three,
four, five. One, two, three, four,
five. One, two, three,
four, five, six.
One, two, three, four, five."

Shivers forgotten in that warm place,
red-tipped fingers move up to
her cheek. Pen in hand,
eyes closed, she murmurs, "Pen in hand,
eyes closed, she murmurs."