Mend

Alice plays with the hem of her skirt
It is far past the need to be mended
We are at home now
Nestled in the red bed
Not sleeping
Creeping to the kettle
Murmuring in the sink
The chains snapped
We almost miss their presence
Like a faithful hound they kept us reined
Now we have freedom and a list of wants and need
All too much when said and done
We woud like to play with moon and sun but are stuck stuck stucky in powder and glue
Alice plays with the hem of her skirt
It is far past the need to be mended.