rummaging the children to get to the door
cement turns to fake grass covered stairs
iron bars follow me up and criss cross the
communal hallway houses the cold air and tonka
trucks lay with other fallen spoils of war
damaged and un lying desolate and abandoned
next door smells the seasoned beef simmering with oil
swelling the chill air with spices and then the
welcome mat lies looking always blankly up
unlocked the warm dark room awaits stilly wrapping
in the gentle deep exhalation and warm pins
prick my soul with peace
until the windows awake showing the black
and yellow noise all slipping around me and
lifting off the layers
until I am warm and naked
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about small things, nothings and the somethings in between
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