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03 July 2013

rocking chair requiem

a memory within the creeeeek of the old rocking chair
we are those children once more
you and me
old and Withered flesh stripped away, scraped back, washed clean
until we are in the woods again, trees and skittish deer
and you and me
eyes darting, lips blooming, painful kisses and giggles and
cold backs and wide hopes and childish whispers
from you and me
bricks of destiny, a blood red stone wall, Dali clocks melting
ropes pulling us apart, and resignation on the childhood faces
of you and me
and never us.

R. R. Shea

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