a stitch in time....

 it is so breathtakingly frightening when one wears one's heart on one's sleeve for everyone to see....and poke....and pick off pieces...like lint from the dryer...all we can do is remember the good times....the love.... and learn to duck....when someone reaches for a touch...or with gleaming intent in their eyes....rips the sleeve off. All you can do is sew it back on....and in the process... learn a new stitch.

Bone and Flesh

There is a house

Made of bone and flesh

Who lives inside?

What lives inside

Dark corners, too small

Room after room

Room after room

Room after room

Windows opaque, unseeing

Unseen, the truth of being

Too fearful to raise it’s head,

furtively glancing behind

And beyond.

Sniffing the air, wishing for rain,

Wishing for soup.

A house made of bone and flesh,

So slowly it twirls,

A child at twilight

Golden hair lifting,

Skirt rising,

ballooning around dirty knees.

Tiptoe tiny dancer,

Green green grass beneath

her dirty feet.

Dance dance dance…

Hands outstretched

Wishing for hands

To touch.

Eyes closed upon the

Darkness

No firefly lights

Her way

No hands reach out.

Spinning slowly

Furtively peering over

Window sills,

Through glass opaque,

No hands reach out,

Or through.

No rain

No soup.