Ideality; the quality of being ideal.
That’s what I mean when I say ‘My heart
Resonates with gentle colours of feathers while
My eye is cautious of twigs with thorns and twigs
With small glints of flames on the tips of their fingers.
Once or twice, I step and skip on stepping stones
And thrice or quartz, the rocks swim gently in my ears.
Three times at night, they whisper, “Are you living up to the
Ideal?”, and twice every Autumn chair, they sleep and
Diffuse their tiny scents and speckles of crumbs
Outside my bedroom, and outside the red front door.’