Sparkle by Sarah James

Case in hand, Ada crosses
the hotel lobby with its globe
of strung crystals.

Each room here
is the size of her mind,
this hall an ocean

of to and fro,
of escaping from daily grit
to a world she doesn’t know.

She pauses, hypnotized
by the glass beads’
swaying reflections;

light and lives dance
in a brief sparkle
of fragmented parts.

She steps onwards,
passed the glass,
passed the waiting guests,

passed this small globe
of glamour and glisten,
hope and disappointment.

Her wake trembles
in a sealess wave
across its rounded surface,

then gone.