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Friday, October 30, 2015

Fantasy 5 : Between Places

Between Places

Dark little alley,
They say you're blind ended:
Blind you are, that I can see
But do you really end?

Perhaps out of the reach of poets
You bend and disappear
Into some Rabbit's Hole,
Into some oyster spirit's home,
Or into some monster's bed.

Well, you are a road, my dear,
Going but never gone:
Like all but Alice, down the Hole;
Like all but the pinkest pearl;
Or like Little Riding Red.

But, my little alley,
Though black are your flowers,
In my torn and half-lit hour
You are my only friend.


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