poetry

timber

I had a dream…
I was cutting down a tree and it fell onto me in our house

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pink fresco lightly painted to taste
handpicked and homegrown
thrown in a wooden bowl
a cottage aesthetic

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to rise in the morning
sunshine on my face
a space to be; meditate
a cup of tea
warm familiarity

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if i could go anywhere
where would i be
a vast distance between reality and thought
escaping stimulation

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it’s easier to express when i’m stressed
because i have a lot to say

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was never to be stationary
tucked behind a glass for safe keeping

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