Life Passes By

Life Passes By

In my sleep I weave
braids of silk
with fingertips bitten
by scattered pink dabs
of strawberry fields
and playground sands

and time becomes a tale
that freezes
between half-open intervals
of giggles and moonlight.
A space, where I find
myself visiting nightly
plucking green earth
with broken finger nails
and a dirty brow

yet waking
to storm clouds
beating against my
pain
as the rain
slowly drizzles
through every moment
of my waking,
twisting and tearing
through the holes
now void of meaning
and purpose
and the constant clang
of my solid heart

And not for a moment
nor a whisper
but from an existence
of a painted life
coated with thorns
I wish,
life could be
rewound to a time
when Barbie's dress
was an oak leaf -
tied with a twig

A time when tears
dried quickly and
friendships were mended
by noon.

Inspired by:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/kruse/146095979/lightbox/