Sweetly sour


 

There isn’t a word, self-deprecating enough
for the feeling that engulfed me
when a red filament glowed in my dark cellar
and knowledge shoved its hands, twisting itself
into the cosy crevice which sheltered me,
pulling delicate membranes of thought apart
till it ensured a slit
large enough to let day in
while tongue extended, I waited
for the honeyed dew to drip
and shrewd mice ran around,
waiting for stray tidbits.

When light flooded the hole,
streaming slants of dust particles danced
where hitherto a rainbow had languidly posed
revealing planned palaces
balanced on strong foundations
by those who passed the sugar pot
while flitting through my dark corridors.

Staring now at my blank wall, standing as
a prop, upholding their dream
I smile and dream on,
throwing a fluffy stole over some misgivings
determined not to dim their lights
for my castle was conjured within
a reckless bubble of implicit trust.

©Reena Prasad 22nd Nov 2012

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