Cementing the bricks
and building the
wings, putting pins in my eyes
and things that go bump in the night
say their goodbyes to me.
Flying or dying is something
I try both together when under the weather
or when I feel old and
the mind takes a hold of me and whisks me
a potpourri of chilli flakes and heartbreaks,
then flies me away.
Today is okay and tomorrow who knows, in a second the forecast is fine then it rains, shadows grow long when you’ve seen them before in the doorway, the windows, at the end where the light slows, but today is okay.
I’m still cementing the bricks though because no person can ever know when the wolf’s going to drop by,
building my wings to fly and the
bump in the night is okay in the light of the day,
still putting pins in my eyes to make sure.
© 2015, John Smallshaw.