I am
captured,
but willingly.
Gleefully.
Sisters pull me under
and whisper
Stories.
Garbled
watery
but enchanting.
I scribble it all down.
The sisters
Demand.
Don’t surface.
Don’t sleep.
Don’t eat.
Just write.
But I must emerge.
Family
and paycheck
demand.
I pull myself out.
Reality is cold
muddy
unpleasant.
The sisters cry…
come back
it’s warm here.
we might fade.
we might forget.
But it’s dinnertime.
I close my door
And hope
they can wait.
No comments:
Post a Comment