Dust is thick on my tongue
from the cool pine planks,
when I hide under my bed.
I kiss the floor with my ear
the earth is a chorus of cries
Which voice is yours?
I hold tight the glass slipper
This room is listing.
I am rocked to sleep.
You bloom in my dreamlight.
I search the dust for sand.
In the heat of my heart,
I will make new glass.
These slippers worn when
we were young, no longer fit.
© "Neon Veil" (All rights reserved)
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| Floorboards © Jennifer Phillips |
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