She roams as free as a little bird
Nary uttering a single word
As worlds collide and dimensions shift
She escapes through an open rift
From one’s mind’s eye to the eyes of others
She appears 3D dear sisters, brothers
Out in the Grinds she wanders fair
Dark cloak bellowing beneath high hair
High hair, bad hair, hair the same
Plonked atop like a gelled up mane
Intended to give one a sudden fright
Even more so in the fading light
Thomasina is out and free
She’s dancing in the Grinds, you see
Singing carefree in the wind… eh
Hypnotic as a spooky Duende
A figment as far as figments go
As real as imagination grows
As ghostly as a ghost can get
An Inner part of me and yet
She’s external and skipping on the driveway there
Celebrating the fact October’s here
The month that ends on Halloween
And what occurs will yet be seen…
The Mansionic Perspective 
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