She locks that door knob just in time,
To find herself safe and divine.
For all the demons and the devil can’t reach out to her,
Here, the door the locked,
And here, she is the crown and the queen.
Here, she knows she is Henry’s Clare,
Waiting, yet content in her despair.
Sometimes, she changes her role and becomes Michael Blomkvist,
Witty as hell, sharp as a blade,
Moving around with all of his grace.
Lisbeth appeals to her in the darkest of hour,
For she knows, she was never a vower.
All of this mayhem stays inside the door,
Cuz outside, she’ll be just another lonely soul.
But she will rise, and rise above all.
She is the light and the illusion of cowl.
Let her rest, she needs to revive,
For when she wakes, she’ll be on the highs.
Geetika Jha is a poet and lives in Maharashtra, India. She has completed B.E in Electronics and telecommunication and dabbles with words as a creative activity.