A Figure Stands There Iii
In the door
in the house
as it sits, dilapidated
the weeds tangles ruined floors
the door is a jar
In the shadows
of a vacant room
Littered with castings
form former wars
The room is in deep shadows
Tattered wallpaper flutters
in the gentle breeze
Eyes spark in the deep gloom
Borrowing into your soul
The yard is bare with broken toys
scattered here and there
Dark clouds on the horizon
thunder deep in its heart.
A figure stands there,
lingering in the space between
the seconds and minutes of reality.
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