treasure hunt

She covered her eyelids
waiting on
predicted surprises
with inaccurate judgments;
she is waiting for
an empty hand without - 

A book of prayers on her lap yet
she never flips a page.
It is a consolation prize yet
she doesn't feel any better.

She fell asleep
writing her thoughts down, her last
thought was a 
dot of complexity; inability
to speak and
she taps her eyelids
liking the invisible 
thud
she feels on her eyeball,
counting down the seconds until
another day.

Except it is a special day,
though she
doesn't really know 
why.