Sculptures

My sculptures are still,
but their lives are vibrant.

I watch them from my bed, discovering their stories, people, animals, objects.

One. A little girl, dreaming about fields of flowers, of butterflies fluttering
all of her worries away.

Two. An old couple, painting, reading, laughing. Together.

Three. A beautiful fairy, eyes bright as stars as she shoots upwards, wings beating faster and faster.

Four. A lamb, sleeping peacefully,
mind wandering further and further away.

Five. A bright rainbow bird, singing songs,
its sound carrying all the way
through the forest.

My little sculptures, their stories
clear as glass in my mind.