wall lace

my house of scraps whispers one word
a rhythmic refrain for the singular choir
no silence here, unsung notes lie in wait

my house of scraps slides down one step
tip-toeing blindly down slate gray walls
no movement here, dust-devils all lost and idle

my house of scraps looks for one sign
cryptic mess of dead wood adrift
no preachers here, sermons shuffle by in black or white

my house of scraps shelters one plant
each leaf sold to every branch by cunning roots
no forest here, the monsoon shadows grow still

my house of scraps paints one portrait
layer by layer, images embrace and merge
no colours here, only tired rainbows with fallen arches

my house of scraps remembers one dream
dreamt by all, seen by some, felt by one
no sleep here, nightmares stalk each other for now

my house of scraps hides no demons
ideas trip and fall prey to idle words
no monsters here, only orphaned thoughts flee the mind


my house of scraps lives one life.


r o h i t -AT- m i n d s p r i n g . c o m