With my ear pressed
I stammer
I hear elves
in this seat
from some workshop
they hammer
their work never
complete

and the stick that I
searched for
scrapes the mud
from my shoes
then I sigh
at the back door
and swing open
the blues

and the TV is blaring
and the dinner is cold
and they look
without caring
boy just do what
your told

so I climb to my bed
well not mine
just on loan
and with hurt
in my head
fall asleep in
their home


©2013 Lyn