I put the kettle on. (Forever since you loved me) Set the cup and laid the linen. (Forever since you held me) Steeped the leaves and measured honey. (Forever since you kissed me) Sipped my tea and wrote my thoughts. (Since forever, Love, forever)
Threads are scattered across my lap. How long have I lain cross this table? Tic Tic the Clock in the back of my head - and the table rocks. Threads. Thread... bare in my hands. The original tie -in. Like a macramé hanging - in its unformed state yet frayed from sliding fingers. And the time. Ceasing. Unceasing. I relent. the hands, the pen, the plug. Toc Toc the Clock. Stand - and the threads scatter Across the floor. Shelley Rae Bell
you only know.
shines on me.
while I suffer notes of weariness
shadows play in minor key.
and I see
notes in blues and reddish hues.
Up and down the scale it goes
a song begging to be free.
shelley rae bell
Do I keep things out? Or in?
I cannot tell. I would not say.
Forged bars are where doors
would compose an opening.
I held the blacksmith’s hammer.
And tongs when I breathed fire.
Placed each bar in tedious fashion.
A wartime plan.
Do I lock the door against? Without?
I select. I would indulge.
A secret keepers combination.
A brave companion.
shelley rae bell
