All those years
Of sucking leaves
In a house of owls
Will not break the mask
Stone-lipped you
Dictate the stairs
Silence as the
Broken mill of dust.
Wordless, dry
And all foured
Reach the landing;
So you have come home then ?
My mother was the very best cook
In the beginning though she was not
And the very first pie she cooked got
In the house hidden out of sight in a pot
By the night thrown through floor pine knot
Inspired by Brian Strands but not an entry. I just wanted to see if I could write one.
(Mother said the first egg custard she made was all runny and she didn't want my father to
know that she messed up so she hid it for a while then poured it through the pine knot in the
floor. They were very poor living on a farm in a house without double flooring like today
and no rugs.)
There is a place far away that only I can find
A secret cove of sand and stone,
where the ocean meets the sky
Just me and my little house of sage
A picket fence that holds no lie's, with wild flowers that
dream to fly and sandpipers fluttering by
Just me and my little house of sage
Even after the stars have burned out and all the universe is gone,
I'll will still be here...
Just me and my little house of sage.
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