November 04, 2009

Soap Box


Soap Box


Small sparks and eyes splash out and burn tonight,

Flames halo the oak in ripples of light.

Earth has shrunk to the size of this small room

The blankets and walls, our refuge cocoon.

As pleats are pulled apart, stretching the thread,

We sink into a slice of mattress bread,

Tiptoeing warm around the velvet skin

A shivering canvas, fluttering thin.


Reams of pencil-sketched dreams draw curtains closed,

Colours blurred into what my mind composed.

Yawning night’s life away, breathe in breathe out,

Deep in my piece of mind there is no doubt.


Awaking to the waking of her son,

Cries for mum, she goes. All worry is gone.

Breathing, his chest rides up like tides to sand,

Blowing his troubles away, far off land.

Ceramic drains the bubbles off the soap,

As drought is to water, as life to hope.

Outside, the cratered face lights up the air

Forging a perfect sphere, no wear or tear.


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