small gloves, big decisions

at night i sit

in shrunken form

with mind away

in slowed reprieve,

where lack of start

and years of stop

mean less and less

to failed me..

and in soft haze

where past is dulled

and all thats left

is all i see,

small hands that type

and legs that shake

and mind that simply cannot be,

a face with eyes

too big for lies

and weakened heart

with lonely soul,

still holding tight

to no ones hand

await in sweat

for bell to toll..

and childs comfort

grasped so tight

in fathers voice

steeply embraced,

so deep in lonely

shadowed world

where once said angels

might have graced..

so stay i here

in minute way

with tremors through

my open core

and lay i wrapped

in dreams of you

beyond the fabled

tigers door.

About lifeofawillow
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