Indias Empty Boxes.
Walking Home Today - The Smells of
In the Shop of Boxes, I became a Red Leaf.
Whilst I held a little Heart of a Cat
thumping - I ate a whole Home-made
berried Pie by myself
then carried on with the pumping of the
Gliding, breathing in the Soft Waterfall
of the Dove.
I asked him 'Why he kept the Boxes'?
Emptied, Torn, Salvaged from the Local Bin.
and he told me that 'it was Nothing to do with
that they had Lived and Carried on
Sensitized to Grace in an Ugly Surrounding
- And I Understood that they were the
Boxes his Soul Lived in.
Three of us Standing and Treading
- Like Mice upon Nothing
From a Colourful Basket of Cultural Disagreements - I was given 'Red'
& Fled -
Step by Step
Away into the Ocean of Fallen Leaves
and Wet Mushrooms.