After two days of imprisonment,
I opened my eyes to see the sunbeams.
All I could see was murk sight,
Amidst the walls of sterile white.
Enclosed in the dusky room
Trying myself to groom,
My eyes hunt on the vault for the ray of hope,
But all I could see was the moving hoop.
Eventually I found a bunch of Tulips
Calling me back to green Juleps.
Realising I was reading Plath.
I wish I had one to give me Tulips.
