The Pink Room

The pink room
dusky with nightfall
decorated with descending dreams,
smooth pink conch shells,
Mr & Mrs Mouse in fancy felt garb on the mantel

She lies, overshadowed by a giant
wardrobe of hated school clothes,
the Second Coming's callous delay,
the What Will Happen Now?

Quiet breaths on her pillow
limbs frozen; sleep feigned
heart thumping
waiting
still.

The bedside bends
weighed down with memories
of Silly Postman stories,
toss the cap, nonsense sing-song rhymes
and jump me up just ONE more time,
Please, please!

A hand on her back; it has begun.
reality slips in gliding retreat through misty meadows
to dance away across glistening blue oceans,
While she lies like seaweed
in the land where silly postmen
put their packages in your hand
and try to open your letterbox,
saying doesn't that feel nice? instead of
oh dear, silly me, I've lost my letters again
as they drive over bumps in the bedspread

RON!
The Voice of Reason from downstairs
sears through silly-postman-land
insistent and inexorable
dragging reality, unceremoniously jolting and spinning,
back to its rightful position in the universe

A quick goodnight kiss; the bed rights itself
She's left alone with
black wardrobe shadows,
no Second Coming,
and empty pink shells.


~ by Skye, July 2006