She sees the world through lenses colored
A shade that's sadly blue
And when she eyes her own reflection
The thought's not "Me", but "who?"

Confusion swirls amidst the mist
That drifts off of the lake
The water seeps around her toes
While she wonders when she'll wake

She sees the child with fingertips
A cold and frosty blue
Her dark hair blowing gently
And the tear that's frozen too

Her whisper is a tiny cloud
On the air that's crackling cold
She peers from endless baby eyes
With a glance that's much too old

Their eyes are locked, and through the haze
In this illusory dream
All appears much more surreal
Than ever it has seemed

In moments merely breaths away
This fog will lift and clear
She'll find herself somewhere removed
And the blue child nowhere near

And she will wonder
As she has so oft before
What to make of this not-quite-dream
That leaves her lost and more

And still, she sees the world
Through her lenses which are blue
And someday she will learn
That her eyes are the blue child's too.

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