Madness is my rawness
A cool wind trickling in
Through the carelessly
Awkwardly
Blindless blinds in a breeze.
Through my heart I sense exposure
A germinated seed standing tall
With dandilions and sweet summer grass;
An attic vent left unkempt.
Longing for Sun to strike
A moment I’ve anticipated on the wall
But each of them still blocked as past tense
Scented with a candle’s wick.
Darkness is my brethren
Seeped in delicate china
Slithering like a snake.
My cold cold ice
Cracking this heart;
Tasse and blood
And an apéritif.
For my darkness likes gloom,
And I’ve now left the room
And closed all the blinds
To remind me of when
I have been there again.
It’s those times as the sun is going down
When the blinds have been pulled for the night
And the water stops dripping off the roof
That we remember, and enjoy
Sitting next to Grandma, teaching her computer
And sipping on a new cup of tea
It’s these moments in life that we find peace
We sit down in a chair that is older than I am
And relax to the audible buzz from the furnace
The same furnace that blows cold air
Grandma is getting old these days
Though she still lives alone
Boiling her soups with lots of garlic
And a toaster that pops up four at a time
I remember when she first got that toaster
That sits next to the old high chair
I remembered as I reclined on the ol’ daybed earlier
I also noticed the intricate detail of the eavesdropping
A classical pattern, woven with a jigsaw
Clearly a tasteful choice by grandma
The sun is almost down now
I’ll be leaving soon enough
I can only hope for peace then
As I make the trek northward home