A vast sea of Arms and Legs

swept out the doorframe,

blocking off the room from the house

An impenetrable wall

like thorns and vines,

sealing off the Girl from the Prince

The room sits empty

but for the dust.

Gathering in corners, shunning

the open space

The room sits empty

but for the grime.

Clinging to windows, shading 

out the sun

The room is dark, 

old and worn.

weighed by days long past

The room is tired,

desperate for a nap

And so it falls asleep.

Rain dancing back and forth 

persuading the dust to leave its home

convincing the grime to abandon ship

The wall bows

Retreating, withdrawing

Settling back into place

The room is clean,

spick and span.

A painting newly restored

The room is bright,

Having been awakened

It does not feel tired.