Wings

The Story of the Last Egg ~ Leonora Carrington

Nighttime falls, Nighttime knows
What I can’t see before my nose
To accept the burden of the age
To contain the acid of my rage

Evening wanders, waltzes in the wings
Wonders what wonders nighttime brings
Scrambles my thoughts and fries my dreams
Unpicks the orange stitches in my tattered old jeans

Daylight burns, daylight is
Cast before me like a fragrant rose
To blind me with reality snow
To neutralise my need to know

Morning prods, dances centre stage
Knows no darkness denies daylight’s cage
Clarifies my thoughts and dissolves my dreams
Stitches my day into the hemlines and the seams