She...

had such beautiful hands. She wanted to touch herself, but couldn’t.

Something held her back, but she didn’t know what. Her hand stopped, then settled back down next to her face.

She wasn’t comfortable, but she didn’t know why. She didn’t think she was in pain, but she didn’t know why. She thought that, for some reason, she should be able to feel pain, but she didn’t. It didn’t frighten her at all. Nothing frightened her. She’d been very frightened before, many times in the past. She’d felt pain before–many times in the past.

Now there was no past, no pain, no fright, no future.

Someone took her hand and held it close. She didn’t know. Her music had stopped.

She was washed with lavender soap and dressed for the first time in many weeks. She didn’t know. Her music had stopped.

She was taken somewhere. She didn’t know.

Her music had stopped.

Lady L,
Is this about a death of someone you held dear? Someone who has gone beyond her touch or ours?
Good thought piece.

A very beautiful and touching tribute Liz.