She was not Sad!

Not a sad Alice

No

Not she

But the sky was grey

And the window crusty

And dirty

There was a mild fear

She kept it at bay

And yet nurtured it

Sometimes

As like a painting

Of the Grand Canyon

She never felt like

She was standing still

The glass was sharp

Warped

And began spinning

As the room rotated

The ceiling fell apart

Liquid seeped onto her

Until a bell tolled

And a spider appeared

Stopped

Then vanished

It was a surprise

Even with glasses.