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.
