Gaze at surroundings.
Clear eyes, like crystal balls,
To view another’s life.
Although it’s mine.
I see the oak rocking chair
With broken lattice that digs into my ribs
As I seesaw.
I see the purple hand-knitted cushion,
With many a pull caused by
Wedged into the space to stop the sharp swing dig.
The pack of tarot cards,
Worn soft by pleading hands
wringing love or riches from them.
A china cup on mismatched chipped saucer
Roses and Polka Dots.
These are the stuff of a life,
That’s mine,
But I cannot quite see as I
Gaze at surroundings.
No comments:
Post a Comment