My journey ends in your room on your bed.
To no other end but rest from my mind.
I lie, covered by the claims that I’ve said.
I sleep, toss and turn; your flannel sheets bind.
From this cocoon I will stir and awake,
Slice a current in the sea I'm swimming,
I will carve in this deception I make
A hollow to collect limbs I'm trimming.
I hear the scratching peeling paint away,
The bark, from Woofy, pawing at your door,
He whines and cries until he gets his way,
Then looking at me, falls onto the floor.
I don’t want to hold the axe in my hand
That will fell the tree of this precious land.
No comments:
Post a Comment