Monday, September 13, 2010


The swirling colors radiate,
in their minds, young and open
Flowers dancing, blown about
on imaginary winds
Conjuring blue and yellow and forest green
When she sees only shade and shadow
or nothing at all
The dust of neglect,
the stink of old food
Hidden in cracks and crevices
that, to them, are canyons and caves
And unexplored wonders

Enmeshed in dreams,
seeking visions and adventure
The sofa becomes a mountain,
under rugs are hidden buried treasure

Walls are prison cages
and doors are meant to be flung wide
To the depths of the sunlight
weaving in and out between panes of glass
Unseen by a mother's eyes
as she simply closes the curtains
and hushes the children
Never knowing, in her stubborn grasp of reality
that it requires more imagination
to deny the dreams
than to embrace them.