I could live on her chandelier.
I could dance on the lit lampshade like a shadow of a fairy with no wings.
I could sit on the arms and listen to the giant's chitter-chatter of Yahweh.
I could explore the carvings that would be my wilderness,
close up the plants are real to me.
I could swing from the bottom ball as the kids up stairs stomp 'round.
How much fun would that be?
I would daringly climb the rusty silver chain that hangs from the ceiling,
which would take forever,
and tap the top piece on ceiling from which the chain connects...
And when she turns the lights out and puts her kids to bed I'd snuggle on the bobeche- and sleep to the deep breaths of the giants.
In the morning before my home is lit I'd look outside at the sunrise,
almost as bright as my bulbs.
I would jump to the table and floor,
and back up the counter and cabinets for food,
and somehow find my way back to the chandelier.
I'd listen to the giants and mini-giants,
What seems like yell and jump around,
But sluggishly eat and talk-
Not even close to ready for the day,
While I've conquered my obstacles already.
Yes!
I could live on her chandelier.
YOU ARE READING
Behind My Eyes
PoetryA posting of every poem that I've ever written ...in continuation, as I write new things and express myself. Experience everything that lies behind my eyes. I am not very active on this site and only have used it to draw out my talents and express...
