Open Skylight

I was sent to close the skylight
on a chilly night.
Sure enough, there she was;
the girl in the loft,
pale and soundless,
of white and blue, glowing truly.
A child like me but with a face so sharp,
misty eyes agog with a tiny shadow for lips.
Theresa was the name that ticked in my head
when I gazed up at her from the landing.
This was her territory.
She told me she liked to look at the stars.
So out of respect, not fear,
the skylight was left open.