there is a yellow home
three proud stories with painted gingerbread
that waits patiently for her
leaning quietly and sighing through the seasons
it watches the random gene of bravery
that nudges her along in a warped plane
a careful but curious overlap of realities
she can understand the creaks of boards
that speak to her soundlessly through the ether
she contemplates another woman's memories
that have set up camp in her head, while
she dreams awake through her daily life
and waiting at traffic lights
in another world that is miles or years away
from the black and white cat
who bends slowly around her ankles
whiskers whispering in the sunlit kitchen
speaking the familiar synergy
that she wonders how
she can understand
© 11.27.12 heather brager
No comments:
Post a Comment