Friday, March 25, 2011

The Black Room

Door closed
Wooden footsteps
Heaven knows
Pick a petal
Solid wall
Scary noise
Feeling small
And then she comes
Little girls
Seeing summer
Forever whirls
Spinning constantly
Seeing ghosts
Picks a posy
Knocking posts
She asks you questions
Makes you mad
Pokes her tongue
You are sad
You move about
And get so lost
Wondering why
Hidden moss
Room is dark
Fans awhirl
She picks flowers
Pretty swirl
In the floor
Plants them slowly
Forever more
And pats them down
Sings a tune
To the moon
Dancing slowly
Darkness light
Taking care
Hidden delight
And you realise
The hidden goal
You are both
Within his soul

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