She awoke at half past four
Frightened
By a familiar voice whispering from the old attic closet.
She knew it was time.
So she draped off her lacey sallow quilt,
Snatched a rusty rose gold key off her antique dresser,
And rushed each and every step down the creaky wooden hallway
Even though her heart was not ready.
She did not stop running
Until she arrived at a cold black door
Where her shaking hands fit the rusty rose gold key into its dusty knob.
She closed her eyes in fear
Even though she knew exactly what was coming
As she turned the dusty knob one time to the left.
The voice of honesty answered her at the door
Letting out the beckoning truth
That it hid in the old attic closet for oh so long.