I imagine it being true

You remained in bed
shards of glass
levitating, like a sparkling
tapestry

Sound asleep
despite rolling thunderclaps
flashes of alien
fast-moving light

In the morning
when the search party arrived
they found you, index finger
marking a place in a book

a white lily
at your bedside
filling the room with a fragrance

and your face
still a child’s
bearing a mark of a kiss