I had a dream
Of a beautiful gate
Covered in bright fuchsia flowers
And then…
they were no more,
the gate had rusted
and I was withered and wasted.
This afternoon I had a dream.
I was a child
and my room was full of light.
The underneath of my bed was clear
and my mother was humming a song,
it’s a pretty day,
we never have to leave.
There were so many books stacked by my bed.
She picked one up to read to me.
And then she looked up at the clock
it had to go one full round.
And then…
I was a girl,
and the sunlight had begun to feel too hot in my room.
The underneath of my bed
had but one skeleton
with a blue hair band on her head.
And in the radio there was a song,
Oh a sunny morn!
What a day for a beach party.
The books on my bedside were gathering dust.
But I picked up my mascara
and I looked up at the clock,
it had gone but only a quarter.
And then…
I was a lady.
Or, was I?
The room was filtered sepia
and the underneath of my bed
had gathered a few skeletons –
there was my mother and my unresolved issues with her,
my lover with his wristband,
and the lover before that.
The girl with the blue hair band was almost gone,
turned to dust.
And Alexa was playing me a song,
Afternoon had turn to pass,
nothing seems to ever last.
The books by my bed had outgrown that table,
and the clock had gone half a round.
And then…
My hair was a nice mix of gray.
Was I old?
The insides of my room glittered in the fading sun,
and the underneath of my bed had gathered a few more skeletons.
One wearing my father’s wrist watch,
one wearing a wedding band
the other half of which still remains in my hand.
And the sensory device was playing a song in sync with my mood,
In all the hours of the day
have you noticed,
the evening takes the longest to pass
through its ever changing crimson array.
And then the device rang shrill…
It was all but a quarter left.
And then…
I was a child again,
fragile and without teeth.
But my body seemed to heavily ache.
And it was a noir for there was no light
across my window pane.
And I could no longer look under my bed,
but I think they had all crumbled to dust.
And the screen across my bedside
kept playing a constant tune,
A beep, a beep, a longer beep.
And I think someone’s phone rang,
or was it mine?
You have at long last come home
in the midst of night,
I have stood waiting
an eternity…
And the stories in the books by my bed
had all lived as a part of me.
The doctor walked in
and said it was done,
the clock had gone its full round.
He recorded the time
00:01.
Wimpy Wallflower 