She washes her hands in egg whites,
picking out stray shell pieces.
Sitting as still as the morning- quiet,
while the kettle sets itself a-steaming.
She hears that same Chinese flute
drifting down the hallway,
slipping universal truths
under each hotel room doorway.
She looks to the rain in the hills
like sorrowful sailor's wife;
a day could be time for a dream fulfiled
or the time that the rivers run dry.
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 5:22 AM UTC
She washes her hands in egg whites,
picking out stray shell pieces.
Sitting as still as the morning- quiet,
while the kettle sets itself a-steaming.
She hears that same Chinese flute
drifting down the hallway,
slipping universal truths
under each hotel room doorway.
She looks to the rain in the hills
like sorrowful sailor's wife;
a day could be time for a dream fulfiled
or the time that the rivers run dry.
I honestly have no idea why this took such a turn, I think I must be hungry