A door opens somewhere
the light switch clicks
and the evening wall is
built from the bricks
of one more

sits on the edge of
her teacup
( a limited edition )
art everywhere
and somewhere the
lights go out.

There is no moral in
the stories we tell
no sounds from
the sea
no shells on the beach,

we live in reach of
the outer
never stretching and
building walls from the bricks
of one more day
is the only way to survive.

On the finger of a deft hand
her left hand
wears a wedding band,
of tea cups and cake stands
( all limited editions )

life in a red brick
almost a conjuring trick
she magic’s herself

© 2017, John Smallshaw.