Monday 25 June 2007



can you hear the glass breaking on the floor?
the 2year old screaming his lungs out?
the dog next door barking?
the rats running wild?

where would we go in the dark night?

into the deep dark forrests?
where the witch lives in the pond with the frogs.

to the witch who tells you who you are.

we'll walk there hand in hand.
find her house.
her behind the house peeling bitter roots.

She'd be waiting for us.

Heat us a cup of herbal tea.
Gingerbread made from pine and birch.
Telling us stories of the forgotten lands.
Laughing at our ignorance.
Reading our palms - stroking our chins.
Waving goodbye at the break of dawn.

But then, after a while, flying through the woods , in between the trees
over meadows and hills. back to the city.

back to the dust, brickhouse, to the sounds.

who will believe us?

No comments:

Post a Comment