hallow halls with crimson walls and air that’s thick as cotton
have you seen the trip to the very bottom?
a consequence of living in my head and in my bed cursing those around me
do you know the way to santa fe?
where i can warm my buns as the suns rays heat the sand around me.
are we there yet please?
i long for lazy days with no craze of schedules to get my ire up.
a quiet time where full is only in my cup.
i miss the cherubs and back rubs and staying up too late.
in summer heavy stresses do abate.
it’s almost time for bikini tops and cute flip flops or even to go without.
cool summer evenings we lay listening to the katydids shout.
good bye to those crimson halls until the call of fall we hear
taking with it my hope as the schedules my calm it shears
i know it’s wrong, i like to keep them with me home.
when they go back it’s a heavy attack, it leaves me so alone.