Kitchen

Grandma's kitchen is warm and well
Sweet potatoes roast gently in the oven
Pies line the shelves
Their sugar crust coatings glistening in the sunlight
Her hands move deftly
Fingers crooked at the bone
Each tin and bowl moved gently
Prised open
Gifting treats to be savoured
Love to be shared
Our mouths water at the thought of her food
The table is old and lined
Like her face
There have been many stories told there
Many forgotten
The cups are chipped
The saucers fragile
The tea poured piping hot from the pot
We are captivated by its thick steaming flow
There must be noise
The sound of gentle working
But we do not hear
There is an unconscious flow
A place and time that exists beyond us
That's because Grandma's kitchen is a dream she whispers
I let the words drift over me
I like it in this place
I will quietly drink tea and graze on the pies
I will feel loved
I will have this person even if I can't touch her
If you can think of it, it exists somewhere
We find it in our words
Nothing better declares Alice
A film of sugar around her lips
A rosy glow in her cheeks
We did well to come here
To wait for the baking
To see this woman who welcomes us with open arms
Perhaps she will kiss my cheek
Perhaps we can come back whenever we want to
The door is always open
The fire always warm
We cosy down
Stomachs full
Grandma smiles at us
We are home.

Vigilance

We have to remain vigilant little cricket
Who knows if the clouds might fall
Or the sky turn black above us
It has always been like this
Running
Never still
Always chasing Rabbit
Tumbling through mirrors
Struggling with stairs
We are lying down beneath the stars
Silent but together
It really has been a journey
Perhaps we feel a little more safe
It is inevitable
The shock can't help but fade with passing years
And how quickly those years seem to pass
The toll painted on my body
My head crushed like brittle candy
Amidst the chaos it is hard to dream
There was a time when we didn't dream at all
Now they drift in and out like baby breaths
Perhaps there will be a day when we do not need to lock the door
Or worry about being found
Fear makes the wolf look bigger she chuckles
Her presence makes me believe there will be a day when we can walk barefoot
No longer dressed up and ready to flee
Tired and braced for danger
Today is slipping away
I hold her hand
We are another step forward
A little less scared.

Bunker

The walls are a muddied white
Cool to touch
Soothing to lean against
There is one window
It is covered with a black cloth
We would like to pull the cloth aside
See what is left out there
There was a time when we ignored the outside
We wanted nothing more than to be in
Now outside is not a given
We want to be there
Touch the soil
Smell the breeze
Remember time spent gazing at trees
Feel the rain brushing against our cheeks
We do not know how long we have been in the bunker
Time stopped on the day the door was locked
We have cake and tea but it won't last forever
Certainly no tea party or flick of imagination
It's brittle and dusty in our mouths
Black and white
Not colour
We do not know day or night
We sleep when we are scared
We sleep when we are bored
It was different when we could choose to lock ourselves in
When we had the key we were real
Now we are nothing more than a few sinking thoughts
We touch the wall
Cool and soothing
We will survive this bunker
Find a way out
Just like we have done many times before.

Flamingo

The electric pink flamingoes flank the apartment stairs
We are borrowed in the basil garden
Drawing out maps
Plucking ourselves from the smoke-filled mirror
It's as if we have fallen through again
All swaying and upbeat
Ready for a game of croquet with the Red Queen
Our sorrows are buried in the kitchen
Our dreams asleep in the bedroom
We draw a map from place to place
Just until we know what to do
The lines are thin as spiders
The sun shines
Reality burns our skin
We cruise through days
Alice rests sleepily on my shoulder
I pluck the cork from the bottle
Take delicate sips
It is empowering
A jazz and a jive of thoughts
Tumbling down like water beating on the mountainside
Shall we play she asks
Of course little cricket
Nothing better than a good game
You know I really do like Wonderland
It is good to be back
Not falling
Not running
Just sitting still and taking in the magic
Knowing that at the snap of fingers we can be back home
That really is a miracle
We smile and bubble
Sway and skip
Happy in both worlds
Gathering stories
Enjoying the view.

Looking At Stars

We lie on the ground and look up at the stars
They sparkle and shine
Bright as sugar sprinkled on cinnamon buns
Good enough to eat she squeals
I imagine if we swallow them our hearts will glow
It is quite a nice idea
A distant dream
We glide through days like hands through water
Time passes
The wind picks up
We measure time through light and dark
Perhaps we like the morning better
When it is crisp and blue
But then the night wraps us up in glorious dark
And we sleep under the magic of a thousand faraway places
We like that too
Sleeping is peaceful and we breathe slowly
No more chasing Rabbit
No more broken tea cups with Hatter
No more visions from the Red Queen
We just disappear simply into ourselves
Like a star imploding never to glow again
Let's pick a star and call it a name
She giggles full of sugar and shine
Everything good needs a name
We crunch the sugar and think
No word quite measures up to the task
The sky grows darker and the stars fade
We close our eyes
The sparkle drifting through our thoughts
Tomorrow will bring a different sky to marvel under
A million stars to name.

Green

We lie in the river bed
Arms tangled
Weaving in and out of each others skin
It is warm
The water sweet as acid
We listen to our breath
Like a small burn grazing our lips
It rolls fast and slow
Our bed is a thick layer of moss
It is green
Soft and calm
Thick enough to absorb our dreams
A safe place that cannot be tampered with
Funny she says
The world outside is bigger than the white room
The sky reaches on for miles
A cool breeze lifts our hair
Hides our eyes
The air seems endless and empty
We listen intently
As if messages will fall into our ears
Stick together like leaves gathering in a puddle
Everything feels like a blur
An act we don't quite know
We burrow into each other
Dizzy and intoxicated
Wondering if the hail will scratch our skin
Hack beautiful little lines into our flesh
Nature's justice
Perhaps this will be the final time we speak
Never she declares
There are far too many stories to tell.

Literacy

We dine on syllables
Crunch on vowels
Letters and numbers spilling from our fingers
Spreading like rainbow dust
Falling on the paper with a splish and a splash
Just like dinner served up on a plate
Perfectly cooked and ready to eat
It's all about making patterns
Finding a thread from beginning to end
Playing
Deliberating over sentences and letters
Remembering our lessons
Wondering how there can be a wrong way and a right way
We have gathered words
Filled a book with crumpled papers
Tiny ink filled lines
Savouring some moments
Dispelling others
Always learning
Never stopping
Happy with some rhymes
Angry at others
It's all a story
One without a beginning or an end
One we write as we breathe
Chapters we forget
Paragraphs that disappear
Shed like skin
Move on
Swallow down
Ready for the next page
Clean empty and burning bright.