The seconds ascend depleted

The seconds ascend
across the broken
scent of bleach,
swept debris
And forgotten cutlery
wedged between
reality and
fantasy. Caged in
the realm of
fairytale, no
Bird sings here, no mice
no pumpkin carriage.
The fairies Godmother
has long vanished
into the ethereal
taking with her
the Ill fitting glass
slippers. And so it
is I sit here bare foot
as the seconds ascend.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image via wordpress

Warm me from this eternal frost.

With muscles sore from daily chores

nails chipped and skin all dry

a scent of bleach and a sigh of why

I wonder would you gaze with me

into an emerald sky.

With tired eyes and a battered mind

uttered words that can be kind

with aching feet and a heavy heart

would you hold me tight

as I fall apart.

With a loss of hope and glory gone

a voiceless soul without a song,

with speckled dust and twinkles lost

Would you warm me

from this eternal frost?