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Literature Text
she measures her footsteps
from his room
like her mother measured her
innocence, carving a mark
in the kitchen door frame,
kissing her forehead,
stroking her hair.
she turns slow
as a wind-up ballet dancer,
so quiet you can hear
the crank and click of time.
he is sleeping too heavy to witness
her looking back at him, to witness
her decision to leave,
wrapped in childhood memories
from his room
like her mother measured her
innocence, carving a mark
in the kitchen door frame,
kissing her forehead,
stroking her hair.
she turns slow
as a wind-up ballet dancer,
so quiet you can hear
the crank and click of time.
he is sleeping too heavy to witness
her looking back at him, to witness
her decision to leave,
wrapped in childhood memories
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Comments2
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The middle strophe is excellent in the way it loosely ties the adjacent ones together with poetic flair. Good thing you went through the old stuff.