loom upon the kitchen's kitsch, eggshell blue dresser
awaiting the dawn's light, to ignite the incandescent in the hanging cutlery...
she hugs her coffee mug tighter; as she emerges, finally, from feeling lesser
inviting the sun to banish the dark, creeping-ivy upon her soul
she undoubtedly, will still have to, by herself, unpick the whole...
sum of her thoughts and the events, that have paved her path here
but in the pale ambience of morn, she sits now ready to face her fears
...her deep seated fear... of herself
...that she'll be left on the shelf...
with the lonesome tatty teapot... for which no one cares
© Debbie Razey 2015