The hall is narrow
The ceiling falling down
My way to the living room
Can’t be found.
A method of cooking fills
Mouldy kitchen air
Where cabinets hang
Feeling no loving care.
Nothing to clean away
Night terrors experienced
In a cluttered bedroom
Where sleep is not
Usually assumed.
Another way, another day
Maybe tomorrow will be perfect
Making this just a dream
I dreamed yesterday.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2018
