She walks home with a bag of groceries.
For a moment the sunset catches her
eyes. She stops short for the glorious pinks
and golds. Glorious because the sun knows
no other way. She continues towards
home. This, too, is not an advertisement.
All the tenants have returned except Mom.
This time of night we want to gallop to
and from the door, but no galloping
allowed. We want to prance back and forth. No
prancing allowed. We're not allowed to squeak
with our shoes, no peeps with our tongues, no sounds.
The front door clicks shut and we're down the stairs
like eagles soaring; laughing as always.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment