Solitude

virgin white rope hung
sun glinted of the window;
the chair held silence.

heels clicked on the floor
and there was no more silence,
but she felt alone.

masterpiece, this was
a noose waited for her neck;
she stood in the chair.

she had no money
no fame or fortune, to add;
but she still had art.

butterflies fluttered;
bees buzzed, wasps stung - insects crawled
she waited; tick tock.

the cuckoo whistled,
beam gave a whine of a creak;
she pushed the chair down.

'click' went the camera,
the rope groaned quietly;
the butterflies, gone.

solitude she had lived,
but no longer it would seem;
she flew with angels.

solitude, she would
name this last piece of artwork;
'click' went the camera.