Sloth

Another part of my anthology...

Moonlight floods her where she lay,

a light blue cloth covering her from head to toe.

And her chest, rising and falling with each shallow breath she takes,

is the only movement made, the only sign she is alive.

She will not rise when the sun lights her face.

She will not stir.

The day will pass, like any other

but she will choose not to see its events slowly unfold.

Her time is wasted, as she avoids any work,

spiritual or physical, she will not comply.

When she does rise she is the image of fatigue.

Drowsy, lethargic, she wonders aimlessly,

her one and only companion, exhaustion.

She does not possess excitement,

her energy is drained.

She is like a car which is running on an empty tank.

Slow, resistant, lifeless,

and eventually, like the car, she will stop.

She will move no more.

Sloth will consume her.