lisdexicwriter

Come and let the shadows take you, deep into the shrouded corners of my home. See the sleeping child, so sweet his breath, so tender the flutter of his chest. Quiet now, don't wake him. Fear the raging child, gnashing his pointed teeth. Let that one lay.

Climb the winding stair, see the old man, smoking his pipe he watches out to sea. Is he hoping to see his missed opportunities come sailing to this desert shore?

Now look into the library and you will find me, book in hand, a short black cigarette in llips. The ink on my finger will tell it is I.
If you have the courage, nudge me from my waking dream.
If not, step quietly from this home of mine and think on it no more.