Prairie Life

Her dreams were
the bent bones of a house
Red and alone, old
on the prairie;
Four windows, four walls
and it would be symbolic
if she didn't know them.

There isn't anything like
neighbourhood watch
on that land,
far inside other land;
Someone can easily
break in or out,
the hinges are rusty.

It doesn't rain
but the roof springs leaks
from time to time while
winds rattle doors
the same as red walls;
And bones creak
alone, old
on the prairie.

Poetry by muddy waters
Read 1470 times
Written on 2006-11-06 at 15:45

Tags Prairie  Dreams  Poetry 

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I like your imagery here.

Charlie fan
this has good flow and well-timed pauses. cadence mimics the soughs of a prairie, good one!

Sandy Hiss
I enjoyed reading this. Your imagery was really good and I like how you related her dreams to the barren prairie.