into the silent, sturdy security,
of a hardworking life.
I walked back, barefeet, into the cocoon of my privacy;
bringing thoughts and case files of a hundred people back
into the empty confines of my shelter,
save mine.
But a single silent blink broke somewhere in my eyes,
the bulb chose to die;
as a smile bore down through the cushions,
wood, granite and earth
into a face looking up at the moon inside
an eight year old car, two other lives beside
one in giggles, another in sniffles
the third singing of lanes left by.
Tumorous smiles, unkempt voices
flying high in sweaty summers
happy stars and moons drooled on paper,
handprints on posters,
meaning of lager
Fevicryl on boots,
When promises took roots
only to bore so deep, that realities did not weep
when they turned into memories
locked forever shy.
And even the yellow light blinded me back,
up from the depths of
that protracted happy goodbye...
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